Worlds Apart by Mary Kleinsmith Ken Hutchinson sorted through his mail, smiling suddenly when he recognized the return address on the only letter amongst the pile of bills. An envelope from Minnesota meant a note from either his mom, dad, or sister. After the week they had had, he needed a little cheering up, and looked forward to reading the latest news from back home. Dealing with the priestly impostor and the deaf-mute was difficult, reminding him of his own weaknesses.
"What is it?" Starsky asked, peeking over the blond's shoulder to try to read the letter.
"A letter from my family," Hutch smiled again.
"Really? What's it say?" Starsky's tone was encouraging him to read it out loud, but Hutch scanned it first.
"Well, it's from Mom," he began, falling quiet as he perused the news in the hand-written letter, his eyes becoming wide.
"What is it?" the brunet questioned again.
"My sister... She's moving here!" The shocked look on the blond's face was unwarranted, Starsky thought to himself.
"Kathy's moving here? Hey, that's great! Did her husband get transferred or something?"
"No, Starsk. It's not Kathy. Barbara is coming here to go to school."
Starsky was puzzled by the response. "You mentioned a sister named Barbara once before, but didn't seem to want to talk about it. To be honest, I'd practically forgotten about her. What's going on? I thought I knew all your secrets!"
"She's the youngest," Hutch admitted, sighing. "My baby sister. I was about 13 when she was born, and when she was five, my folks sent her to a boarding school where she could learn everything she needed to know to get by. She's been at that place ever since. With her there and me off at college, we only saw each other on holidays for years, and even less since I came to LA. I guess I hardly know her now that she's a woman."
"Boarding school at five? That had to be awfully rough on her. And I always thought your folks were so nice. How could they do that to a little girl!"
"Barbara was special," Hutch admitted, his face turning slightly pink at the confession. "Mom and Dad thought that the school was her best shot at learning to live a normal life."
"Why?" Starsky asked, concerned now as he watched Hutch's agitation. "Special how?"
"Starsky, Barbara was born deaf. She can't hear at all and she couldn't talk the last thing I knew."
"Oh, buddy! I'm sorry-I never knew."
"You should have seen her on the day they left for the school. She was so pretty, all dressed up in her best dress. She had the face of an angel and was so innocent. How is she ever going to survive in a city like Los Angeles?"
"Hutch, she's not that little girl any more. And she does have you to look out for her. I'm sure she'll be just fine." Starsky waited for Hutch to go on, now that the blond finally wanted to talk about it.
"I remember when they first brought her home from the hospital. I was so jealous for a few weeks there. Mom would keep shushing me, telling me not to talk so loud or play my guitar so loud, but she never woke up. I thought it was because she liked the sound of my voice," Hutch chuckled nervously. "After they found out, Mom cried a lot, and I felt guilty whenever I listened to or played my music. I kept asking why she had to be born that way, but nobody was ever able to give me an answer that I could accept. And by the time I finally managed to deal with how I felt, she left for school."
"Well," Starsky remarked, sliding an arm around the taller man's shoulders, "now you've got a second chance to be the brother you always wanted to be."
"But I can't even communicate with her!" Hutch practically shouted his frustration. "I don't know sign language, and she can't talk, just read lips."
"When does it say she's coming?" the brunet asked, and Hutch was momentarily puzzled at the shift in subjects.
"Ummmm...it says the end of August."
"Well, partner, that gives you lots of time." Starsky looked self-satisfied, but Hutch didn't know why.
"For what?" he asked.
"To learn the finer points of sign language! CSUN has adult-ed classes all the time! I'm sure they've got a beginners class for it." He paused, thinking for a moment. "I'll tell you what. I'll even go with you! After all, any sister of yours is gonna be like a sister of mine."
"You think I should take sign language classes?" Hutch said, surprised at the idea.
"Sure!" Starsky encouraged. "Actually, I'm surprised you didn't think of it a long time ago!"
"Starsky, I haven't seen my sister in almost eight years! And she stopped answering my letters about the same time I came to LA. I think she might've been mad at me for leaving Duluth."
"If she was off in school, why would she care?"
"If I can't understand any woman I've ever dated, what makes you think I'd have any better luck with my own flesh and blood?" Starsky nodded and didn't respond to his partner's recent difficulties with the ladies. "But maybe if I did learn sign language, she'd see that I really do care. We'll have to call the college in the morning and find out about the schedule and signing up. With our work hours, the timing might be rough, but we'll just have to work something out."
"That's the spirit! And who knows? Maybe the teacher'll be really cute and you'll get back on track in that department too!" I've never had to walk on eggshells around Hutch before-no reason to start now!

The following Monday evening found them hesitantly climbing the front steps of the Northridge campus of the California State University. "I sure hope I can do this," Hutch remarked, indirectly requesting the reassurance of the partner who walked beside him.
"You'll do fine. Think about all the things you already do with your hands. The guitar, the piano, doin' all that tiny work on your plants, your paintings... This'll be just one more talent that you haven't discovered yet."
"I know you'll be good at it," Hutch remarked back to him. "All that detailed model ship building has to have done something for your dexterity."
"I guess we're gonna find out," Starsky remarked as he pointed to the room number above the door where they were headed. "Here we are."
The room they entered was void of people, with the exception of an attractive dark-haired woman who stood at the front, setting up charts and opening books.
"Excuse me," Hutch asked in his most polite voice, "I think this is where we're supposed to be. Are we early or is everybody else late?"
"Well, you are a little early," she responded smiling. "But the class registration was small, so we'll probably just start when everybody gets here."
"Thanks," Hutch remarked, not sure what he was thanking her for. "I'm Ken Hutchinson and this is David Starsky."
"Hello, Ken. Hi, Dave. I'm the instructor, Meredith Sparks."
"Nice to meet you, Miss Sparks," Starsky stepped up to shake the woman's hand."
"Oh! We don't stand on ceremony in my adult education classes. Just call me Meredith. Actually, this works out well, because I like to have a few minutes to get to know my students a little better, and it's hard to do that with everyone here. Did I see on your registration forms that you are both police officers?"
"Yeah, we're detectives assigned to homicide."
"Oh, how fascinating! I've always admired police officers! It'll be a pleasure having two such courageous men in my class."
"Uh, thanks. There is one more thing," the blond man asked gently, hesitant to make a special request of the instructor. "With our jobs being what they are, we never know if something is going to break and we'll have to go to work. How are you set for time if we need to make up some sessions. Can we make them up?"
"Well, gentlemen," she continued to smile, "you just happen to be in luck. This is the only evening class I'm teaching this semester, so if you need extra help or make-up time, we can set an evening aside during the week to take care of it. You may even catch on faster with it being just the three of us."
"Well, I don't know, shweetheart," Starsky said lasciviously in his best Bogey. "Think the Dean would let you hang out with a coupla students?"
Hutch and Meredith both laughed. "I think I'm going to enjoy having you two in my class."
"Do you think we'll be fluent by the time the class ends?" Hutch questioned doubtfully.
"Well, in twenty weeks you should have the basics down pat. But you'll probably have to keep coming for several months longer before you are what we call fluent."
"Sounds like we're learnin' a foreign language," Starsky chuckled, but Meredith responded seriously.
"You are, Dave. And this will probably be as hard or harder than learning French or Spanish or German."
"What about Latin?" Hutch smiled.
"Well, maybe not that hard!" By this time the other students started arriving, so both officers took seats in the front row to get a better look at the demonstrations of the movements. Starsky noticed how determined his partner looked, and hoped it went well. If worse came to worse, they could get used to Starsky not being able to talk to Barbara, but Hutch absolutely had to show her he could be a good brother to her-the brother he hadn't been able to be before.

Starsky, Hutch, and Meredith sat around her large desk, which was laden with books and Chinese takeout.
"It's really sweet of you guys to bring dinner with you. I'll never know how you found out Chinese is my favorite!" Meredith smiled at the pair, the setting sun from the classroom window shining brightly on her face.
"It's the least we could do," Starsky remarked, "seeing as we're taking up your off-hours with class work."
"We really do appreciate it," Hutch said, noticing how her large eyes sparkled. She certainly was born in the right family. The "Sparks" show in the green of her eyes. It occurred to the blond that he was staring and broke the gaze, looking instead at the textbook opened in front of him. "So, what did we miss the other night?"
"Don't worry, I'll catch you both up. Must've been something real important, huh?"
"Somebody found a body a few blocks from here. Believe me," Starsky blanched, " you don't want to hear about it."
"Especially right after you've eaten. I'll just say that someone out there is very sick!" Hutch added. "How about if we just get back to the signing. I've just got to get this right." It was clear he was adamant about the classes.
"What ever made you decide to take a class in sign language, Hutch? It seems an unusual choice for a police detective," Meredith asked gently, and Hutch found he didn't mind talking about Barbara but was uncertain how to go about it.
"Ummm..." Starsky could see the embarrassment in his partner's face as he tried to explain and couldn't think of a way without it sounding insensitive.
"Hutch's little sister is moving to town at the end of the semester," Starsky cut in simply, "and we thought it would be nice if we could both communicate with her."
She turned to Hutch, but her expression was more frustrated than angry. "You mean you've had a deaf sister for all these years... She's how old now?"
"Twenty-one," the blond answered.
"You've had a sister for twenty-one years and you never learned to talk with her?" She shook her head, but Hutch got the feeling she was more upset with the world at large than him in particular. "Parents just don't understand how important it is that kids who are sent away for school-for whatever reason-not lose touch with their brothers and sisters. Being cut off physically is hard enough, but when they didn't insist the rest of the family learn sign, they cut her off emotionally, too."
"Now wait," Hutch interrupted, feeling his anger rise. "My folks were good parents! They did what they could and as much as they could for all of us. And they did what they thought best."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Ken. I didn't mean to say otherwise. But the staff at the school should have told them all this and also kept in touch with them all along to see how the family training was going. Unfortunately, most school staff is so busy that they can't or won't take the time for it." She smiled at the pair, and the tension in the room seemed to quickly bleed away. "But what's done is done. We're going to get you two ready in plenty of time for her arrival."
There was silence for a few moments, then Meredith's eyes suddenly lit up, as a thought occurred to her. "Hey, Hutch. Why is your sister coming to town?"
"She's coming to go to school. This campus, as a matter of fact. She wants to get her teaching degree." Hutch looked almost proud at Barbara's ambitions.
"That's great!" Meredith laughed. "I'm involved with that program, so I'll get to meet her! I'll keep my eye out."
"So you mean," Starsky said encouragingly, "that if Hutch wants to check up on his sister, he can just call you?"
"Or," Meredith added slyly, "if I wanted to check up on Hutch, I can just talk to her." She winked at the blond and watched him blush. When he was finally no longer her student, this handsome man had possibilities!
Starsky was clearly enjoying his partner's discomfort, but was finally the one to draw the discussion back to the lesson at hand. "C'mon, blondie. If we're gonna be ready a few weeks from now, we'd better get this lesson down."

Barbara Hutchinson carefully folded each piece of clothing and gently laid it in the suitcase spread out on the bed. Two already-filled cases sat near the door, alongside several sealed boxes which contained almost twenty years' accumulation of possessions and memories. She placed the final item on top of the others and closed the piece of luggage. She looked around the room that she'd occupied for all of those years, noticing how much smaller the room seemed now than it had when she first came here, frightened and confused. But as frightened as she had been, it was almost as scary at home, where people couldn't communicate with her and she couldn't tell them what she wanted or needed.
The overhead light flashed three times in quick succession, and she interrupted her musings to open her door. The mid-fifties woman who waited for entry smiled, but there was a hint of sadness there too which Barbara didn't miss.
"I can't believe this day has finally come," she signed to the young woman. "I find that I don't want to let you go. You're as much like a daughter to me as my own Karen is. And I know she'll miss you too."
"Bridget," Barbara signed back, her long-fingered dexterity easily forming the words, "you know I can't stay if I want to get my degree. You have been my friend, trustee, and teacher. The only way I can help other children the way you've helped me is to go to CSUN and get my degree. A teaching degree is all that I want-all I've ever wanted!"
"I know, and you're right to go. I'll miss you!" The teacher wrapped her arms around the pupil in a long hug good-bye, the taller woman practically covering Barbara's petite form. She wasn't more than 5'1" tall, and slender to boot. The high heels she wore most of the time created an image of height that could fool some, but not her closest friends.
They pulled out of the embrace, and Bridget signed again. "Write me when you get to Los Angeles, okay? And keep writing! I want to hear all about your experiences."
"I will, I promise. We won't lose touch!"
"Be careful," Bridget almost added as an afterthought. "Los Angeles can be a very dangerous place. And you're not used to a big city."
"I'll be fine. And my big brother will be right in the same city. My Lord! I haven't seen him in so long." She seemed to think for a moment, then her eyes lit with the signs of an idea. "You should come and visit me after I get settled in! Ken used to be so gorgeous from what I remember. Maybe he and Karen will hit it off!"
"I promise, I'll ask her! And I promise, this won't be good-bye. We'll see each other again, child."
Barbara Hutchinson wiped a tear off her cheek and slid into her shoes before hefting one of the larger suitcases. She was obviously much stronger than her appearance indicated. Bridget Kelley picked up the second, and they walked out of the room, leaving the remainder to be brought later. Barbara took one last look at the room, smiled faintly, and left to begin her new life.

"Y'know, Hutch," Starsky began as he watched his blond partner practicing his "homework" for class, "this sign language could actually be really good in our line of work. I mean, how many times have we been in a position where we couldn't talk or we'd give ourselves away? This could save us an awful lot of guesswork!"
Hutch signed yes, and Starsky's eyes opened wide. "Hey! You just said yes! And I knew exactly what you meant! I'm gettin' better and better at this all the time." He wore a self-satisfied grin of congratulations.
Hutch signed again, "Okay, now you try one."
"You want me to try one?" Starsky asked hesitantly. Somehow understanding what was being signed was a lot easier than getting the gestures correct when the conversation went the other way. He knew that was a rarity, but accepted it as a rarity and proceeded from there. "OK," he signed awkwardly, then decided to try for more. "How about going out for a pizza?" He made the motions awkwardly, and seemed to get his fingers tangled together on the last few words, but it was clear enough to Hutch what he wanted.
"Can't we get something besides pizza for a change?" He asked aloud, giving up on the homework for the time being.
"But it's the only thing we can agree on, food-wise," Starsky explained and the blond had to agree. As they headed for the door, the brunet's thoughts turned back to their project. "So, do you think you're ready for the final class tomorrow night?"
"I sure hope so," Hutch said, worried. The previous week, Meredith had announced that their sessions would end with a "field trip" of sorts. They would be required to take the special bus, whose driver was instructed to only communicate in sign, downtown to a certain restaurant, which she knew had several waiters who could wait on deaf patrons, order a complete meal, and make their way back to campus on the same bus. All without speaking a word or having a word spoken to them. Meredith would come along, of course, in case they got into trouble and to monitor them, but they wouldn't be able to lean on her.
"I just hope I don't embarrass myself by getting the wrong word again. That was so humiliating in class last week!"
"You're just lucky," the blond grinned, "that the girl you were partnered with knew that wasn't what you were really trying to say."
"I'm also lucky she pulled that slap before it connected!" Starsky agreed as they headed for the pizza place.

Starsky proudly admired his certificate for the completion of the class while Hutch inserted his into a frame for his wall. The field trip had gone without major incident, with each person in the class accomplishing the required tasks to pass. Meredith had commended both men on their tenacity and ambition in taking on such a large task, even though the dark-haired member of the team was still having some slight difficulty.
"I think you just need more practice," Hutch encouraged him as he pounded a nail in the wall. "I mean, you're very adept with your hands normally; if you were clumsy, you sure wouldn't be certified to carry a gun!"
"I know, but somehow this is different. Between the classes and the practice, though, at least Barbara will probably know what I'm trying to say once she gets here."
Hutch smiled, thinking. "Yeah, and that's only two days away. You know, I'm really starting to get excited about seeing her again. I'm not even sure I'll know her when I see her, but she should recognize me. I haven't changed that much since I went off to college." The blond had finished hanging the certificate and had taken to pacing. Starsky hated it when he paced.
"Buddy, sit down or I'm leaving!" he finally said after watching the third lap around the living room.
Hutch settled himself on the arm of the sofa, but it was pretty apparent to his partner that he wouldn't be staying there long. "I just wonder what she'll think of all this. Mom said she's got a room on campus, but will she be able to get around LA by herself? This is her first time in a big city. I remember when I first came here, everything seemed so overwhelming, and I didn't have the disadvantages she has."
"Don't worry, partner!" Starsky finally exclaimed, stopping the blond as he was about to rise and start his pacing again. "She's got you and me to show her the ropes. And after she's been here a couple of weeks, we can even introduce her to some nice guys who could help too!"
"You wanna set my sister up on a date?!" Hutch exclaimed.
"Sure, why not?" Hutch hated it when Starsky was reasonable. "She's 21 years old, Hutch! She's not a little girl anymore."
"Yeah, but she's not very worldly either."
"How do you know? You haven't spoken to her in years, how do you know there aren't a whole bunch of fellas up at that school just cryin' their eyes out `cause she's leavin'!" He smiled wickedly, which rattled Hutch even more.
"She is only 21. That's practically a baby, Starsk!"
"Uh, Hutch?"
"What?"
"Remember Rebecca, that stewardess you had a couple of dates with last week? Remember you guys doubled with me and Sharon?"
"Sure, what about her?" Hutch was starting to get confused at this sudden shift in subject.
"Well, when you went up to the bar to get our drinks, we got to talking. Hutch, she's 21 years old, too. And I'm sure you remember what you and she did on that date!" Starsky laughed as the blond's eyes went wide.
"You're kidding?!"
"No, I'm absolutely serious. I know it's gonna be tough, but you've gotta keep in mind that Barbara's not the little girl you remember!" Starsky smiled, but clenched his teeth to keep from laughing at the blond.
"Even an adult woman alone, new to the city, needs to be watched over some," Hutch said defensively.
"Yeah, some. But not constantly and not smothering."
"Okay, I'll try. But you've gotta understand how tough it is. You don't know-you've never had a sister."
"But I will soon," Starsky suggested, smiling. He watched as Hutch started to set the table for the dinner which he could smell cooking in the oven.
Putting his nervous energy to some use seemed to help calm the blond a little, but it rattled him when he noticed Starsky watching him. "What are you doing?"
"Doing?"
"Yeah. You're staring at me."
"I'm just not used to seeing you so uptight, Blintz. It's interesting. Tell me something: if you're this nervous now, what's going to happen in two days when she finally gets here."
"I can't tell ya, but you'll be there to find out."

Starsky and Hutch both ogled the petite, strikingly beautiful blond woman as they waited on the airport concourse.
"Hey!" Starsky noticed excitedly. "She's coming this way!" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. He was grateful that something, or someone, had come along to distract his jittery partner.
"Yeah, well, partner, it's just too bad she likes me better." He seemed calmer since they'd actually gotten to the airport, making Starsky think again how odd his partner could be.
"What makes you say that, Blondie?" Starsky said defensively, smiling all the while.
The woman had come much closer now, and both men wore astonished expressions as she ran the last ten feet, dropping her small carry-on bag and throwing herself into Hutch's surprised but not unwilling embrace. She planted a firm kiss on his blushing cheek, Hutch's arms still holding her high-heeled feet half a foot from the floor. Hutch turned with her still in his arms, smiling wickedly at his partner. "See, I told you," he mouthed silently.
After a moment, the woman pushed herself away from Hutch's imposing figure, smiling up at him with shining blue eyes. As he looked into those eyes, it finally occurred to Hutch just who this was.
"Barbara!" he shouted gleefully, and swept her up in his embrace again.
Starsky stood for several minutes as Hutch proceeded to swing his sister in a circle. When Hutch talked about Kathy, he always regretted not having a sister; that feeling was intensified now. It was as if they'd never been apart. The difficult part was yet to come, though.
Hutch finally set Barbara back on her size 5 feet, but held her at arms length, looking her over again. Finally, as she looked at him inquiringly, he felt brave enough to try all he'd learned.
"Welcome to Los Angeles, Sis," he hesitantly signed, and she smiled even wider as she interpreted his words. He'd gotten them almost perfect!
"Thank you, Kenny," she signed back, causing Hutch to smile as she spelled out the letters of his name, "and thank you for this!" She took his hands in hers, repeating the gestures he'd made and correcting the one small error. The moment was pure magic. Ken's signing was far from perfect, but she was able to fill in the missing words by reading his lips, giving her a full range of what he was saying.
"Hey, Hutch," Starsky finally interrupted, laying a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder. "We'd better go." He smiled contentedly, enjoying seeing Hutch so happy. "And just in case you haven't figured it out, offhand I'd say she's not angry with you."
"Thank God," Hutch responded, then remembered his manners. "Oh, I'm sorry! I guess that was pretty rude, huh?" Starsky didn't nod, but the blond still turned to his sister. "Barbara, this is David Starsky."
Starsky decided to take on the challenge, and began to try his signing himself. "I'm your brother's partner. Very nice to meet you."
"It's nice to meet you too," she responded, feeling drawn to the handsome brunet. "But you're my brother's what?" Her blue eyes were wide with humor, knowing full well what Starsky was trying to say from the motion of his lips. Her mother had written and told her all about her brother and his partner, explaining what good friends the two were.
Hutch wasn't sure what Starsky had mis-signed, but he knew it wasn't quite right. He repeated the sign correctly, causing Barbara to break out into silent laughter. She stepped forward and kissed Starsky on the cheek, the officer blushing as he felt the softness and warmth of her lips.
"I think we should go pick up your luggage," Hutch suggested, taking Barbara's small hand in his own and leading her to the baggage carousel. Starsky was content to stand back and watch the pair as they waited for her bags to come down. They had been worlds apart in lifestyles and experience, but there was no mistaking that they were brother and sister.
When two flowered suitcases came around, Barbara pointed them out, then removed them from the carousel herself, with Hutch trying to do it for her and her not letting him. Starsky tried very hard not to notice how her form-fitting pink skirt showed off the shapely legs as she reached for each case. Soon he realized he was staring again, and shook himself out of it before either of the Hutchinsons could see.
"We brought my car," Hutch informed her, leading her to his beloved LTD. "A lot of room for suitcases."
"Yeah, just so long as the trunk doesn't fall through," Starsky said, simultaneously trying his best to sign the insult.
"Ken, I can't believe you drive this car! It's dreadful!"
Hutch stopped signing, speaking distinctly so she could read his lips. "Did you just say that my car is dreadful?!"
At Hutch's down-trodden look, she tried to lift his spirits. "I'm sorry. I just usually seem to like cars that are a little flashier. You know, something with some zip? Your car looks like something Mom or Dad would drive!"
"For a second there," Hutch smiled, "I almost forgot just how young you are!" He unlocked the passenger side door before crossing to his own side, and his partner felt embarrassingly warm when Barbara slid in first, centering herself on the seat so Starsky could sit next to her. Stop it, Starsk! he thought to himself. If Hutch ever catches on, he'll kill you!
The ride back to Venice was quiet, since signing-or reading sign-is very difficult to do while trying to drive. Barbara's eyes never stopped moving, though, taking in all the activity of big city life. It was like something she'd never seen before, and it fascinated her.
She'd called through the TDD service the day before that there had been a delay in preparing her dorm room, so it was decided she'd spend the next two or three days at her brother's place. They stopped at the apartment only long enough to drop off her luggage, despite Hutch's efforts to talk her into changing into something a little more "comfortable". The men at Huggy's would be swarming like flies if she went looking like that, with he and Starsky spending the entire night trying to fend them off. I can't believe how beautiful she is, Hutch thought.
Once they arrived at their friend's restaurant, Hutch did his best to walk between his sister and the rest of the bar's patronage. Starsky quickly laid claim to an empty booth against the rear wall, and Hutch ushered Barbara into the inside seat, sitting down after her, with Starsky sliding into the opposite side. Thus camouflaged, both men figured they had a pretty good chance at eating a peaceful meal and having some good conversation with their guest.
"What it is!" Huggy exclaimed over the din of music and conversation. He knew, of course, that Hutch's sister was coming to town, but wasn't prepared for the young woman who sat before him. "Hey, good buddy! Why didn't you warn me your sister was such a looker. I was expectin' a little girl!"
Barbara smiled indulgently as she read his lips, blushing slightly as she looked at her brother. There seemed to be no end to the colorful friends her he had. "I'm Barbara," she signed as Hutch interpreted. "It's nice to meet you, Huggy."
"It's great you could come to LA. It was getting a little boring, but I'm sure you'll liven the place right up!" Huggy smiled again as he handed her a menu. "Okay, dynamic duo, what would you like?"
"Don't we get menus?" Starsky questioned, feigning hurt feelings.
"Starsk," Hutch reprimanded playfully, "you could recite that menu yourself!"
Starsky laughed and placed his order for a burger with the works, fries, and a Pepsi, while Hutch ordered the baked fish and potato. Barbara pointed to her choice on the menu, a large garden salad and french fries, and Huggy took off to place their order.
"I think I missed something," she told both men. "Was Huggy just talking about Batman and Robin?"
Both men blushed furiously. The nickname Dynamic Duo had been tacked on them some time ago, but, fortunately, they'd never had to explain it. "It's nothing," Hutch told her, "just a nickname." Barbara smiled but let the matter drop. She'd remember it for the future, though. Some time when she needed to put her brother in his place, she'd bring it up again! She laughed silently at the plan.
Despite the long separation, she felt comfortable with Hutch. Not that she had entirely forgiven him for his absence from her life for the past sixteen years, but it was easier to put it aside than she'd thought it would be. She just wished that she felt as comfortable with his partner. There was something very different about David Starsky-different from all the other men she'd dated, both hearing and deaf. She hoped to herself that he might actually ask her out, even though she knew it was unlikely. He was her brother's partner and best friend. That more than likely put her off limits, she supposed.
The food and company was wonderful; Barbara hated to see the evening end as they departed Huggy's and headed back to Venice Place. It was well after midnight, and they'd all agreed that bed was a good idea if they were to be fresh to see the sites of the city the next day.

It was about 8:30 a.m. when Starsky came bounding up the steps to Hutch's apartment. Happily, he'd slept like a rock and was raring to go.
"Hutch!" Starsky called as he flew through the apartment door. He pulled up short in the livingroom. Hutch was nowhere to be seen, but locating him was easy when Starsky's ears picked up the sound of the water running in the shower. A flash of inspiration made the cobalt blue eyes sparkle mischievously.
Sneaking quietly to the kitchen sink, he filled a glass with water, letting the faucet run for several seconds so it would get very cold, then compounding it by putting in a trio of ice cubes from Hutch's freezer. Prepared with his full glass, he snuck stealthily toward the closed bathroom door.
So far, so good, Starsky thought as he turned the knob and pushed the door open. Hutch hadn't seemed to notice so far. Even through the shower curtain, he could tell there was flesh-colored movement from inside the tub. Trying to make himself as small as possible, Starsky got to within a foot of the shower curtain, reached up, and quickly dumped the icy water over his partner's figure.
He pulled aside the shower curtain at the same moment, not wanting to deny himself a look at the expression on Hutch's face. As he drew aside the curtain, though, the shocked face was undeniably feminine, and before he realized it he was standing there, stunned, looking at the totally naked form of his partner's sister. Barbara, looking at him with wide eyes, was totally stunned, but not so much that she didn't have the presence of mind to grab the shower curtain from him to hold in front of her body.
Both parties involved stood, staring at each other and blushing, too stunned to move further. They were still in this position a moment later when Hutch, fresh from the market on the corner with breakfast fixings, came in. "What the hell are you doing!" he stormed at Starsky, whose mouth moved but no sound came from it. Seeing that his partner was just as stunned as his sister, he led him by the arm from the bathroom, shutting the door behind them, allowing Barbara to return to her shower.
Pushing him down on the sofa, smiling now at the incident, Hutch asked, "Okay, tell me what happened."
Once out of the room for a few moments, Starsky was pretty much back to normal. "Honest, Hutch! I didn't mean anything! I...I thought it was you." He motioned to the empty glass still in his hand. "I thought it would be funny to dump some ice water on you. I didn't think that it was Barbara in there!"
"Well, partner, it sounds like you really found out it wasn't!" Hutch laughed, remembering the look on Starsky's face. "But at least her reflexes were fast enough that she grabbed the shower curtain before you saw something you shouldn't have."
"Uhhhhhh... Hutch..." They'd never lied to each other before, not seriously anyway, and Starsky was ready to fess up.
A motion came from behind them. Both men turned around as Barbara, folded into a robe similar to Hutch's only pink, came out of the bathroom. "It sure is a good thing I did!" she signed, her message of secrecy conveying itself very clearly to Starsky. Starsky and Hutch had been facing each other, and she had been able to pick up what the brunet was about to reveal. She crossed to stand behind her brother, Hutch sensing her there. "Don't tell him you saw!" she signed for Starsky's eyes only. "I don't want to create a commotion!"
Starsky smiled and nodded his head, which Hutch took as his answer to whatever the blond had been talking about. Starsky had no idea what he'd said, but at least he was avoiding the figurative "hot water" the incident could have gotten him into. Barbara headed for her suitcases, picking out a comfortable shorts outfit and heading back to the bathroom to dress. By the time she was dressed, combed, and ready, Hutch had a simple breakfast on the table.

Starsky stood unhappily in line at the county art museum. "Don't know why we had to start the tour here," he grumbled, loudly enough that his partner could hear, but not their ever-present guide.
"I don't know what you're complaining about," Hutch whispered back. "You seemed to like my idea well enough this morning when I came up with it. You even smiled when you agreed to it!"
"Yeah, well..." Starsky thought fast, trying to cover. "I thought I'd at least be able to tell what the paintings were of! You know I hate abstract art!"
"These aren't so bad, Starsk. Just give `em a try. The museum personnel have even been nice enough to keep us in the front so Barbara can read the guide's lips. Not every museum would do that, you know."
"Excuse me, gentlemen, but would you mind..." Both men looked guilty when they realized how loud their voices had gotten, interrupting everybody's tour.
"Oh, I'm sorry, ma'am," Hutch blushed. The tour was continued, with Starsky politely refraining from making the crude comments that crossed his mind about the "art".
After the museum tour, Barbara managed to convince them to spend the remainder of the day shopping, which neither man particularly enjoyed. Like the dutiful brother, though, Hutch showed her to all the affordable local department stores. Starsky, at first, was only interested in watching the sales women dressing the mannequins, and wasn't paying much attention to what Hutch's sister chose. His attitude changed quickly, his shadowed eyes reflecting what he dare not say, when she moved from the blouses and jeans to the swimming suits.
As they left the final store after several hours, Starsky remarked, simultaneously signing, "I never knew that shopping for clothes could take so long!"
"Well," Barbara signed, intentionally slow so her brother could catch every word, "if Ken hadn't insisted on arguing about every outfit I wanted to buy, it wouldn't have taken so long." She was smiling as she said it, but Hutch saw the sparks behind her eyes and knew she was not pleased with him.
"I'm sorry." He did his best to look chastised, but wasn't certain he was succeeding.
Starsky broke the tension in typical fashion. "Hey, how about we go get some dinner. It's after 6:00, and I'm starvin'!" Barbara simply nodded her agreement, so Starsky took the shopping bags from her in his right hand and held out his left arm for her to take. She couldn't help but notice the well-muscled bicep and forearm as she wrapped her arm around his. They had gone two steps before they realized Hutch wasn't with them.
"Hey, aren't you comin', partner?" Starsky asked, pulling up short.
"Yeah, I guess," the unhappy blond muttered as he took a position on Barbara's opposite side.
Considerably more discussion ensued inside the Torino before they were finally able to decide on a restaurant, ending up at a homey Italian place near the station. It was the best compromise between the junk food Starsky wanted and the health food Hutch preferred. Barbara, it turned out, adored Italian cuisine, so it worked out for everybody.
It was after nine before Starsky dropped the siblings off at Hutch's apartment, the blond laden with Barbara's purchases of the day and his sister laden as well with the doggy bag full of their leftovers. The food had been fantastic, but the portions had been large; in the end, even Starsky hadn't been able to finish his meal. But there was enough left over for all three of them for dinner the following night, giving Barbara the perfect opportunity to invite her brother's partner to come over when they finished their shift.
Hutch piled her bags in the corner as she deposited the leftovers in the refrigerator. "If I'm going to get up for work tomorrow, he told her, I'd better get some sleep. My shift starts at 6:00, so hopefully we'll be home early."
"How early?" she questioned.
"I'm afraid we rarely get to work just eight hours. But maybe by four."
"Okay," she agreed, standing on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. "Goodnight, Ken."
He sat on the bed listening while she moved about getting ready for bed, spending some time in the bathroom and finally settling on the couch to sleep. He'd offered her the bed, but she dismissed it quickly, logically stating that she was easily able to fit on the six-foot couch, while he wouldn't have fit. He'd given in rather than argue.
Once he believed she was asleep, he went about doing his own pre-bed routine. Lastly, he snuck a look at his sister over the back of the couch, noticing the even rhythm of her breathing and the innocence of her face. "Good night, Barbie," he said, resorting to the name he'd used for his baby sister all those years ago back in Duluth, yet knowing she wouldn't hear it.

"Hey! I've got a great idea," Starsky enthused suddenly as the red car continued down its patrol route. "How about you call Meredith and we all go out for Chinese tonight?"
"Starsky, she's our teacher!" Hutch said.
"Not anymore. Besides, it'll give Barbara a chance to get to know her before she actually starts her classes."
"Gee, partner. It's sure nice to see you so concerned about my little sister! And here I thought you weren't going to be able to relate to her because you've never had a sister of your own."
"Speaking of that," Starsky began, doing his best to look innocent. "Remember what I said about any sister of yours bein' a sister of mine?"
"Yeah?" Hutch responded, uncertain what was coming next.
"Well, forget it!" Starsky tried his best to take the sting out of the admission, but Hutch was still taken off guard.
"What the hell do you mean by that, buddy?"
Starsky was rescued from having to answer by the radio. "All units in the vicinity and Zebra 3," it announced. "Citizen report of a dead body at 246 Hemingway Lane."
"Responding," Hutch said into the radio, slapping the light on the roof. "And don't think this discussion is over!"
Starsky laughed as he shifted into high, and Hutch misinterpreted the reaction. Thank God, he thought. He's only kidding.
The squealing tires brought the Torino to a halt in front of the address they'd been given. A middle-aged woman with wide eyes ran up as they emerged from the car, pointing to the thin alley which ran between the buildings.
"In there! It's in the dumpster! I swear, I didn't have anything to do with it!"
"Take it easy, lady," Hutch did his best to calm her. "We'll check it out. Wait here for the other officers who'll be coming." She nodded silently as Starsky joined his partner in approaching the alley.
Starsky noticed that Hutch's gait had slowed. Hutch hates checking out dead bodies. Wish he didn't have to. He purposefully sped up so he was certain to get to the dumpster first. Leaning in over the edge, he saw the thin arm, then pushed the rubbish aside until most of the body showed. "Female, and young," he announced as Hutch took a quick peek over the edge, his face pale.
"Not another one!" Hutch muttered, rubbing his eyes. The blond set his jaw and looked again at the figure in the dumpster. "She couldn't be more than 24!" he said, sounding astounded. If he lived to be 147, he would never understand this kind of thing.
He blanched as Starsky reached again into the dumpster, touching the woman's wrist. "She's real cold, Hutch. Must've been dead for awhile."
"Damn!" the blond shouted. "This is the third this week! What does this maniac think he's doing?!"
"At the moment, he thinks he's outsmartin' a bunch of dumb cops who can't catch him," Starsky admitted as he extricated his top half from the garbage container. Three squad cars and the coroner's wagon pulled up as the pair made their way out of the alley. "She's in the dumpster, Collins," he told the first uniformed man.
"Tell the forensics team to catch everything!" Hutch ordered curtly.
"Hey," Starsky whispered, laying a calming hand on the blond's arm. "Don't take it out on him. We all want this guy!"
"I know! But, dammit, Starsk!"
"I know, buddy. I know."

"Alice Adams," Dobey announced, handing the duo a file. "Twenty-two years old and a senior at CSUN. This is everything we've been able to get on her. Her family's being notified as we speak."
"Hmmm." Hutch perused the file. "Good grades, part time job. Looks like she was probably on her way there when she was killed..."
"Which adds up to a whole lot of clues and no way to tie `em together," Starsky finished, his frustration showing.
"Well, this is the eighth girl in the last month and a half, three this week alone! So you'd better find the key!" Dobey's attitude showed his own frustration.
"It's gotta be some kind of psycho, Captain," Hutch said, turning to his superior. "All the victims were college girls, but not the same campus. All worked a job after hours, but none in the same place. All were dedicated students, not party girls. All the bodies were found in dumpsters."
"And," Starsky added, slumping down in his chair, "almost all the victims had double initials. That's such a common thing, there's no way we can predict which student he'll hit next! And that doesn't explain the ones who don't follow that pattern."
"Well, the state the bodies were found in would certainly substantiate the idea that it's some kind of psycho," Dobey agreed. "Why would any sane person shave these girls' heads before dumping them?"
"I thought the hair was a good clue," Hutch said, beginning to pace the squad room, "until the fourth victim. The first three victims were brunettes. Then he branched out. Two blondes, a redhead, another brunette, and this last girl had auburn hair."
"So hair color can't be an issue after all," Starsky stated, completing Hutch's thought.
"Do you think the families of the other girls are up to answering some questions?" Hutch wondered aloud.
"If we wait for `em to be ready, we may never get to talk to `em." Starsky scribbled the names on a pad and rose to follow his partner out of the squad room.

By clock-out time, they'd interviewed four of the families, but the information, at this point anyway, proved unhelpful. Both men were surly as they pulled up in front of Venice Place, although they were also looking forward to a dinner of the flavorful leftovers from the previous night's dinner.
Hutch smiled as he slid the key into the lock, allowing them entrance to the apartment. Good girl, he thought, she remembered what I said about locking up while she's here alone.
Starsky noticed the worry-crease in his partner's forehead deepen as he looked around the empty apartment. "Starsk, she's not here!" Hutch remarked, his eyes frantic.
"Look around. Maybe she left a note telling us where she went."
"Where would she go?" Hutch challenged. "She's a stranger in this city, and she's only seen the places we've taken her! If something happened to her because she was here, in my apartment, it'll be all my fault!"
"Partner, you're gettin' all excited for nothin'! Look around! Are there any signs at all she's been snatched?"
"No... But there weren't any when Forrest grabbed me either!" He crossed to the telephone, grabbing the receiver savagely.
"Who're you callin'?" Starsky asked.
"Headquarters. I'm going to have them put an all-points bulletin out for her."
"Hutch, have you lost your marbles?" Starsky grabbed the receiver from his hand, simultaneously hitting the button and disconnecting the call. Hutch was reaching to grab it back when the door clicked.
Both men turned as Barbara, her arms laden with brown grocery sacks, came through the door. Her hands being occupied, she was unable to say hello, but her bright smile greeted them. Starsky rushed to take two of the bags from her.
Neither Starsky nor Barbara saw Hutch seeth as they crossed to the kitchen area of the apartment. As soon as the bags were set on the counter, Barbara began to talk excitedly, giving her good news.
"I got a telegram today! Do you remember my talking about my teacher Bridget? She's coming for a visit in the morning, and she's bringing her daughter Karen. Karen was my best friend for all the years I went to school!"
"Where the hell were you?!" Hutch asked, grinding his teeth together and clenching his fists so tight that signing was impossible. She read his lips anyway.
"I wanted to make a special dinner for them tomorrow night, and you had absolutely nothing usable in that refrigerator, so I went to the grocery store." She was clearly perplexed by his reaction; was this how her brother looked when he was angry?
"Do you have any idea how worried I was when I got here and you were gone? You've only been in the city a few days! How was I supposed to know you hadn't been hurt or grabbed or anything!"
The more excited Hutch got, the harder it was for Barbara to interpret what he was saying. She tried to sign for him to slow down, and her hands flew faster and faster in her frustration. Starsky, for the most part, was doing his best to stay out of the way. Finally, the woman turned her back on her brother, giving up on his tirade.
As soon as Barbara was no longer facing Hutch, Starsky watched again as Hutch continued to reprimand the girl. "Hutch!"
"Not now, Starsky!" Hutch asided to him, then went back to addressing his sister.
"But, Hutch!" He shouted back. "You're givin' yourself laryngitis for nothin', dummy! She can't hear you!"
Hutch suddenly fell silent, blushing in embarrassment, as Starsky's words sunk in. With her back to her brother, yelling at Barbara was paramount to addressing nobody.
"Looks like, for once, I'm gonna have to be the level-headed one here," Starsky said, dragging his partner over to the couch. "Sit down." A slight push sat the tall man beneath Starsky's line of sight, giving the shorter man the dominant position. "Stay!"
A light touch on Barbara's arm brought her light blue eyes up to meet Starsky's darker ones. Starsky was struck again by how much they looked like her brother's. "Come with me, please? I think we all need to talk."
He led her to the same couch where her brother still sat. She daintily lowered herself at the other end of the sofa, keeping her eyes from her brother's by staring at Starsky. There were so many things in her face, Starsky noticed: hurt, anger, and confusion were the strongest.
"Okay," Starsky began, speaking and signing at the same time. "I'm going to try to play counselor here, and you're just gonna have to put up with it. Now first, Hutch, you've got to understand that Barbara is not a little girl. If she chooses to leave the apartment, it's her own decision and nobody else's. I don't care if she's gettin' groceries or playin' tennis, she doesn't need your permission."
Hutch looked properly chastised, knowing in his heart that he had been in the wrong. He turned to his sister, his movement attracting her attention. "I'm sorry," he signed precisely. "I was just worried about you."
Starsky waved his hands to get Barbara's attention. "That brings me to the second part. Barbara, you've gotta understand that, because we're police officers, there are a lot of people who would like to hurt us. There have been a lot in the past, and they don't always just go after Hutch and me. They've gone after friends, dates, and family lots of times. So if Hutch seems overprotective, there's a good reason. Please, can you agree that, at least while you're staying here, if you do go out, you'll leave a note. Just let him know where you're headed and about when you'll be back. Okay?"
"Okay," she signed back, smiling at the handsome brunet. He was so kind! The smile fell as she looked undecided for a moment, then more determined.
"Ken," she addressed her brother, "I think we need to discuss what just happened. We're both adults, so we're going to disagree from time to time. But how we disagree is what I need to talk about."
"We were fighting," Hutch admitted, "and I was upset. That's nothing unusual for adults."
"You don't even know what you did, do you?" Hutch shook his head, puzzled, then looked to Starsky. He seemed to know what she was going to say, but let her say it anyway. "One of the rudest things you can do to someone who is hearing impaired is to deliberately not sign in front of them when you know how."
"Oh, my God!" Hutch whispered. Was that what he'd done? He looked to Starsky disbelievingly as the brunet half-smiled and nodded his head. "I'm sorry," he addressed Barbara, speaking and signing once again. "I was just so freaked out that I forgot all about it! I'm so sorry! I promise, the next time we fight, I'll remember. Or better yet, we just won't fight any more!"
"Don't say that, Ken. We will fight because that's something that adults do. As for my part, I promise to be sure that I sign slowly enough so you can understand what I'm trying to say. I forget too, you know. I forget that you've only been able to sign for a few months, and that you learned to do it just for me. Not every guy would do that for a girl, either here or back home. And here I've got two in the same city. You're some guy, big brother!"
He leaned toward her, encircling her with his arms and simultaneously smiling at Starsky. "Thanks, partner," he said, for Starsky's ears only. A moment later he pushed her away, asking her, "So what is this about your having visitors?"
"My teacher is coming for a visit. When I left, I asked her to come see me when she could, and there just happens to be a conference in Los Angeles starting tomorrow."
"She sounds like she was more to you than just a teacher," Starsky noted.
"For a long time, she and her daughter were everything to me. Her husband died in a car accident when I was still pretty little, so the three of us spent a lot of time together. She was sort of a foster mother for me while I was separated from Mom and Dad."
"I can't wait to meet her," Hutch smiled.
"I can't wait for you to, either," Barbara winked at Starsky. "Bridget and Karen will be here tomorrow, so I'm going to make a special dinner. You will come too, won't you Dave?"
"Wouldn't miss it!" he smiled lopsidedly, jumped up and kissed her on the cheek. "But what about tonight? Are we gonna eat or not? I'm starvin'!"

They were both becoming more and more frustrated with their lack of progress on the case. Brainstorming as they ran through their daily patrol route seemed to merit them nothing new.
"I don't know about you," Hutch mumbled, rubbing his eyes, "but I need a break! I feel like my head is going to explode."
"Too much thinkin', I guess," Starsky responded. "It's 11:30. How about we stop for an early lunch. There's that place just around the corner..."
"Sounds good, although I'm not sure how much I'm going to feel like eating." Starsky turned on his signal and pulled first into the turning lane, then left onto the next street.
The passenger-side tires bumped the curb as the Torino came to a halt, the blond simultaneously opening his door. He'd just slammed it shut when a shout brought his attention to a pair of struggling figures on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. Before Hutch could get to them, the man had pushed the woman to the pavement, finally taking possession of her purse and fleeing into an alley.
Hutch was panting heavily as he pursued the snatcher into the dark, sensing his partner running just behind him. He could barely make out the shadow as it jumped atop a dumpster at the end of the alley, attempting to use it to scale the fence someone had erected there. Both officers were apparently more agile than the thief, because he was unable to get over the fence before the blond had jumped up right behind him. As Hutch grabbed the man by the scruff of the neck, Starsky jumped up behind the first two, noticing peripherally that the container where they stood was half open and half closed, with a split lid that allowed for it.
As Hutch reached for his cuffs, the perpetrator made an unexpected shove, pushing the blond into his stunned partner. Both police officers, grasping at the air in a futile attempt to stop their fall, dropped into the open portion of the duster, the thief falling in after them due to Hutch's iron-like grip on his shirt.
"Damn!" Starsky exclaimed as he attempted to brush a small garbage can's worth of food remains from his clothes. He looked up at his partner, realizing that, although he, himself, was a mess, Hutch was in even worse shape. But true to his duty, he was putting the cuffs on the stunned purse-snatcher.
"I don't know, Hutch. I'm not sure I want you sittin' in my car lookin' like that!" He laughed as Hutch joined in, climbing out of the dumpster and lending a hand in pulling their prisoner and his partner out.
"If I didn't need to get back to my place for dinner with Barbara's friends, I wouldn't have anything to do with your stupid car," Hutch confessed, his irritation showing. As they emerged from the alley, dragging their prisoner along, two uniformed officers emerged from a zone car. Hutch was relieved to see that the victim had regained her footing and was looking at the culprit and chastising him with vinegar in her voice.
"Fitzgerald," Hutch addressed the first uniformed man, "this is your perpetrator, here is your victim, and you're surrounded by witnesses. Do you think you can take it from here? I've got an appointment to make."
"Sure, Hutch. We'll take care of `im."
Starsky finally gave up trying to brush the refuse from his favorite jacket as he climbed into the Torino. "C'mon, partner. Let's go home."
Hutch lowered himself in next to Starsky. "At least we've got a couple hours to clean up before Barbara's friends are due for dinner. Thank God," he amended as Starsky squealed the tires in the direction of Venice.

"You can use my shower," Hutch offered as they climbed the stairs, "and I'll run our clothes to the laundromat down the street while you're in the shower. By the time Barbara gets back with Bridget and Karen, it won't even look like this happened!"
"Sounds like a good plan t'me," Starsky agreed. "Is that me stinkin', or is that you?"
Hutch laughed as he reached for the key. "I don't know any more, but one of us smells like spaghetti."
"I think that's me. Knowin' you, you wouldn't smell like anything but salad or vegetables!" They sprawled into the apartment, beginning to strip the sticky, uncomfortable clothes from their bodies. "Since you're gonna do the laundry, maybe you should get in the shower first; I'll take mine while you're gone."
The proposal made perfect sense. Both men were shirtless as they turned as one, responding to the click of the door.
"Oh, my!" The exclamation came from a woman, perhaps twenty-five years older than Hutch, who stood behind Barbara. The look on his sister's face told Hutch that she was thinking the same thing.
"Ken, what happened to you? You're filthy! And you're not even supposed to be home yet!"
"Hazards of the job, Sis," Hutch communicated aloud and through sign. "We had to come home to get cleaned up!"
"We fell into a dumpster chasing a purse snatcher," Starsky explained. It was difficult for Barbara to concentrate as his hands moved. The waste and grime did nothing to hide the hairy and muscle-covered chest. Even filthy he's gorgeous!
Hutch broke into her reverie, touching her on the arm so she looked at him. "We're being very rude, I'm afraid. Who are your visitors?" He already knew, but gave Barbara the opportunity to make a formal introduction. Fortunately, she realized, neither Starsky nor Ken noticed the focus she'd made on her brother's partner.
"Oh, I'm sorry! It was rude of me!" She turned around to wave the woman behind her into the room, the guys only then noticing that there was a third person behind the older woman. "Come in, come in! Bridget Kelley and her daughter Karen, I'd like you to meet my brother Ken and his partner Dave." She smiled devilishly, a smile that Starsky noticed she shared with her elder sibling. "Don't worry, they don't always look this way!"
Handshakes were exchanged all around. "You were Barbara's teacher?" Hutch questioned rhetorically. He was addressing Bridget, but his detective's mind was cataloging both women. Karen was a beautiful girl, not as petite as his sister, with the most luxurious-looking waist-length auburn hair he'd ever seen. He wondered if her mother's had been the same rich color before it had turned gray.
"It started out that way," Bridget stated, "but it's been a long time since I thought of her as just another pupil." Her affection was clear in the tone she used, and Hutch wondered, since she couldn't hear it, if Barbara sensed the warmth in another way.
"Karen is my best friend," Barbara admitted, her eyes meeting the other girl's, "and Bridget has been my mentor and biggest support system!"
"I'm sorry," Starsky broke in before Hutch could. "I didn't quite get that word. The one before `and'." He looked to his partner for an answer, but Hutch shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't know either." Two sets of blue eyes looked at Bridget, knowing she could interpret. Before she could speak, though, Barbara held up a restraining hand.
Once she knew both men's eyes were on her, she carefully spelled out each letter. m-e-n-t-o-r. Starsky and Hutch took turns identifying and repeating each letter as she signed it, until finally the last one completed the word.
"Mentor," Hutch said aloud, and Barbara nodded her head, then repeated the sign again, slowly, so the officers could repeat it.
When they could duplicate her motions perfectly, Bridget smiled with pride. "You're going to make a terrific teacher, sweeheart!" she said, hugging her star pupil.
Suddenly, Hutch remembered exactly what he and his partner looked like. "If you ladies will excuse us for a few moments, we'll get cleaned up." He and Starsky went behind the room divider to the bedroom area.
"What am I going to do?" Starsky asked, embarrassed. "I don't have any clothes here, and yours won't fit me. You can't leave the apartment to do our laundry without it looking bad, either."
"Yeah, our plans sure are shot, aren't they?" Hutch started going through his dresser drawers and his closet. "Well, the shirt shouldn't be a problem, you can take one of my T-shirts. As for the bottoms, you have a couple of options as I see it. You can wear these running shorts-they're elasticized so they should fit okay-or you can wear a pair of my sweatpants and roll up the cuffs. What do you think?"
"Well, neither would be my first choice," Starsky admitted, "but since I don't have a choice, I guess I'll take the shorts. At least that way I won't be tripping over the bottoms." Hutch put the shorts, a T-shirt, and a pair of clean socks in his hands, shooing him toward the bathroom.
"Go on, get your shower. I doubt the garbage soaked all the way through to your underwear, but I'll check back just in case you need to borrow a pair." Starsky waved at the women as he gently closed the bathroom door, and soon Hutch heard the water running.
As Hutch himself was stepping into the shower, the smell of dinner cooking overpowered the scent of the soap. It smelled delicious, and he wondered who taught his sister to cook. He had almost as much water in his mouth as there was in the shower as he identified sage, garlic, onions, and some other herb he couldn't readily name. By the time he emerged, scrubbed, soaped, and dressed, the women were putting the food out on the table. Starsky, in stocking feet with his legs showing, had been put to work at the stove stirring a large kettle of a deep red sauce, which he now carried to the large hotpad on the table. Bridget snickered to herself when she noticed how Barbara's eyes kept straying to the brunet at the stove.
Hutch was impressed at how delicious the food was and how thorough his sister had been in her preparations. It was every bit as scrumptious as his mother's cooking, he thought, wondering if culinary talent was genetic. The conversation was friendly as they dug into the cheese ravioli, garden salad, and garlic bread.
"This is great!" Starsky exclaimed, his hands and his mouth full. Barbara had a difficult time making out what he was saying, but finally figured it out, then smiled and blushed.
"Thank you, Dave!"
"Ken, did you know that Barbara made the sauce from scratch?" Karen asked, smiling at the handsome blond. "It didn't even come from a jar or anything! You'd never know that Mom taught both Barb and me to cook at the same time. She does great, and I'm lucky if I can boil water!" As soon as the words were out, she wondered if she'd said too much. Maybe Ken Hutchinson only liked women who were the domestic type.
"You made this sauce?" Hutch asked his sister, and she nodded and blushed again. Both men noticed that the meal was meatless; come to think of it, she hadn't eaten anything with meat since arriving in LA. Hutch made a mental note to ask her about it later, after their guests had left. Living in California, vegetarians were nothing new, but it would help prevent any difficulties in future meals together.
"So, Karen," Starsky asked Bridget's daughter, "how are you going to spend your time while you're mother's at the seminar?" A twinge of jealousy flared in Barbara's eyes, then the girls' eyes met, Karen's communicating that there was nothing to worry about.
"I've talked to the Dean and he's agreed to let me sit in on some classes on campus. There are a lot of fascinating classes available; if I find some I really like, I might decide to register full time here!"
"It sure would be great to have you around all the time!" Barbara admitted, taking her friend's hand in her own.
"Well! I like that!" Hutch said, feigning hurt.
"I'm afraid a brother is very different from a best friend, Ken," Bridget stated in a motherly tone. "Not very many people can balance a brother relationship with a best-friend one. You and Dave do a remarkable, but rare, job of it!" Both Starsky and Hutch thought that she sounded like their own mothers.
"Speaking of the campus," Barbara remarked, "Ken, would you call tomorrow and see if my dorm room is ready? Tomorrow makes three days, after all."
"Sure, Sis. Will you forgive me if I say I almost hope it won't be?"
Barbara smiled gently. "Yes."
The remainder of the evening was filled with laughing and interesting conversation, everyone being equally hesitant to put an end to the festivities. Finally, Barbara kissed and hugged Karen and Bridget as they left for their hotel; Starsky left for his own apartment shortly after that, leaving the siblings to head for their respective beds.

As it turned out, the dormitory room was completely ready by the next day, and after work the following evening, they spent time moving Barbara's luggage to her new room. When they arrived, they found that several large boxes containing the remainder of her possessions had been delivered. The miniature apartment was much more spacious than they'd expected, including a good-sized bedroom, living room, and kitchen.
Hutch picked up a box marked "bedroom". "Do you want me to take this into the bedroom?"
"Yes," Barbara signed, "but I need to get something out of it first." She pulled the tape off the top and retrieved an electronic-appearing device. "Okay, now you can take it." Hutch didn't pick it up right away because he was studying the strange object.
"What is that?" Starsky asked bluntly.
"This is a TDD. That stands for Telephone Device for the Deaf. With it, hooked in to the phone line, I can use the telephone just like anybody else. You see, it goes through a service. An operator reads what I type on the screen, places the call to the person I want to talk to, and relays the information."
"Really? Cool!" Starsky enthused, taking the device from her hands and studying it more thoroughly. "You mean, the operator reads the message to the person you're calling, then types what they say back to you?"
"Exactly, Dave." He was so intelligent, she thought, smiling.
"I've heard of these just recently, but I've never seen one," Hutch commented, looking over Starsky's shoulder.
"Yeah, that's too bad." Starsky saw a spark behind her eyes that there was more to the comment than simple conversation. She'd obviously had this machine back at the boarding school; maybe she was disappointed that Hutch hadn't arranged to call her. But then, from Hutch's reaction, he truly hadn't known that such equipment existed while she was growing up.
Unaware of the meaning behind the young woman's words, Hutch quickly hefted the box and carried it into the bedroom, gently removing the contents and laying each item on the bed or floor as the situation warranted. Books went into the small bedside bookcase and personal items on the dresser.
Meanwhile, Starsky and Barbara went to work on the two other boxes. After much bending and straightening while removing items from the first box, Starsky made a suggested to the pretty blond woman. "Why don't we put this one up on the couch. It might make it easier on both our backs." He stretched his spine, his hands on his back, making the point.
"I think so," Barbara agreed. "Why don't we?" Starsky and Barbara giggled as they tried their best to maneuver the box into position, with each person taking an end. As soon as they had it hefted, they realized it was much heavier than they'd anticipated. They managed to get it to the couch where they dropped more than set it on the cushions. The man and woman leaned close over the top of the carton, both breathing heavily and smiling.
Starsky wasn't sure what happened next or whose idea it had been, but he suddenly realized that he was kissing his best friend's sister, and more to the point, she was kissing him back, fervently. He thought for a moment about pulling away-he really shouldn't be doing this-but instead pulled her even closer.
The kiss seemed to go on and on, both participants lost in time and space. They were harshly brought back to reality, though, when Hutch emerged from the bedroom.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" he yelled, storming to the sofa where Starsky and Barbara had guiltily pulled apart. Hutch crossed to his partner's side, his face very close to his best friend's-so close that Starsky could feel the hot breath of his rage emanating from the blond.
"Ahhhh..." Starsky tried to excuse himself, "I'm sorry, Hutch! Really, I am! It's just...I mean, I was just...we were...she was..." He wasn't sure he could go on, considering how guilty he felt at what he'd been caught doing. Shortly, though, he discovered he didn't have to.
"What I am doing is none of your damn business!" Barbara communicated in angry movements. Her face was as red as Hutch's as she stepped in between the two men. "I kiss whomever I want to kiss, and you're not going to tell me otherwise! This was my idea as much as, or more than, Dave's!"
Hutch realized, too late, that she was right, but Barbara was on a roll, purging feelings she'd kept bottled since she'd gotten to town and for years before that. "But...I was just trying to protect..." Hutch tried, but she interrupted him with her hands.
"You've got a hell of a lot of nerve trying to run my life now! Where were you when I went on my first date?! Where were you when my first boyfriend broke up with me and I needed a shoulder to cry on?! Where were you, Brother?! I can tell you where you weren't, and that's not with me! If it weren't for my letters from Mom, I wouldn't even have known you were still alive all those years! And now you want to interfere in my life here in Los Angeles? No way, Brother. If you can't accept that, then you can just get out of my life! I got along without you through most of it, and I can keep doing it!"
Her hands still moved angrily, and even though they were moving too fast for Hutch to comprehend every word, he understood enough for her message to come through clearly. "I'm sorry," he signed back, not speaking. "When Mom wrote that you were coming, I was afraid you'd be upset with me for exactly this reason. I was surprised, actually, that you weren't. But I guess you are after all."
Starsky stood by, no longer an active participant in this conversation. He may have been the catalyst, but he knew from what he could read from Barbara's speech that the argument went beyond their simple kiss.
"No!" she signed abruptly, her anger still vibrant in her face. "Do you think that I'm a little girl? That you can make it better just by saying you're sorry? The worst part is, I don't really believe that you are sorry. I want you to understand me loud and clear! I've gotten along for sixteen years without your help; I sure don't need it now. And if I should want it, I'll ask for it!" Barbara turned her back on her brother when she felt the tears start to come. She hated it when this happened; somehow it seemed like such a "female" thing to do. But the emotions she had kept in check were bursting out in every direction. So help me, she thought, if he offers me a handkerchief, I'll slap him!
Barbara was determined not to turn back to the men until her eyes were dry, so she stayed riveted in place. Her brother, his concern obvious, came up behind her. She hastily shrugged off the hands he lay on her shoulders, taking a step away from him. Deciding to try again, his hand appeared over her shoulder, handing her a small white cloth.
He expected her to take it from his hand. What he didn't expect was what actually happened. Hutch's petite sister spun, quickly and gracefully, as she swung her arm. A fraction of a second later, five thin finger marks were tattooed on Hutch's cheek. He quickly raised his hand to cover them in stunned surprise as Starsky took a step forward, deducing that he'd have to interfere after all.
"No, Starsk," Hutch halted him with two words, "I'm okay." Starsky looked into his partner's eyes and saw that he was most definitely not okay-at least not emotionally. This time it was Ken Hutchinson's eyes that were moist, although he was doing his best to hide it. Seeing the pain his partner was in, Starsky went to Barbara and turned her to look up into her brother's face. Her expression softened slightly when she saw the shining blue eyes.
"I really am sorry," Hutch told her, fearing he'd lose his tenuous control. "And if you want me to leave right now and never come back, I will. All you have to do is say so."
"I'm sorry, too," Barbara admitted, the gentleness in his face calming her where his words hadn't. "Please don't feel like you have to go; that's no way to solve a disagreement, even if it's been going on for sixteen years. I thought I'd worked all this out of my system before I ever came here. Ken, if you and I are going to live in the same city and try to get to know each other as brother and sister, you can't try to control my friends, and especially not my dates! If I want to kiss a man, or him to kiss me, you've got to stay out of it! Even if it's Dave!" Starsky blushed guiltily but didn't interrupt.
"I promise, I'll try," Hutch agreed, "but I'm very uncomfortable with the idea of something happening between you and Starsky. He's fourteen years older than you, and a lot more experienced! Plus, he's like a brother to me! With you being my sister, it just feels like incest or something!"
"Ken, it was just a kiss! For God's sake! I didn't drag him into my bed or anything!" Hutch blanched as he imagined such a scene. "Besides, how do you know how experienced I am?!"
That's somewhere I do not want to go, Hutch thought to himself. He shrugged his shoulders and pulled his little sister into an embrace. "I'm sorry," he said aloud, his lips close to her ear, even though she couldn't hear him. He could feel her muscles were still stiff under his arms, but she let him hug her, and that meant something. Then his eyes moved to his partner, a feeling of regret settling in his heart like a stone. Starsky's blue eyes looked angry-would he be able to make amends with him? "I owe you an apology too, partner. I'm sorry I got so out of line. Will you forgive me?"
"Buddy, you were my best friend long before I ever met your sister." A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Of course I'll forgive you, just so long as you promise not to do it again. If anything happens between your sister and me, it's all three of our business. But you can't interfere." He let the smile come as Hutch nodded his agreement to the stipulation.
Hutch finally let go of his sister, explaining, "I'm going back to my work in the bedroom. If you guys need anything, just holler." The woman's eyes weren't completely satisfied as she watched him go, but the pact would hold for now.
"Of course," Starsky answered, his smile growing even larger as he watched his partner leave the room. "What say we get back to work ourselves?" Starsky signed to an equally smiling Barbara.

By the next morning at Metro, Starsky and Hutch were working together as if nothing had ever happened. It would be a lie to say that the blond was particularly happy about the possibility of his sister dating his partner, but he was resigned to it. If he had to admit it to himself, in fact, he probably would be feeling this way about any man who was significantly older that she might date. She'd spent one last night at Hutch's place, since everything wasn't set up at the dorm yet, and when he'd left for work he still felt she hadn't totally forgiven him. He couldn't put words to the feeling between them-somehow, it was stiffer and more formal.
"Hey!" Starsky suggested excitedly. "How about stopping at the Taco Haven for some breakfast?" He abruptly put on the Torino's signal and turned left down the street that led to his favorite take-out place.
"Starsk, what do you think you're going to get for breakfast at a taco joint? Even you wouldn't eat a taco for breakfast!" Hutch made a face at the thought, drawing a sip off the Styrofoam coffee cup he held between his fingers.
"Of course not! But Tito-he's the chef there-he makes the world's best breakfast to go! And he made it up all himself!"
"I seriously doubt that Tito could be called a chef in anybody's book!"
"Well, he is in mine!" Starsky responded indignantly. "Ya see, he takes these scrambled eggs, mixes `em up with some hot peppers, cheese, and onions-kinda like an omelet, y'know? Then he rolls it all up in a burrito shell! I tell ya, Hutch, it's a sheer stroke of genius!"
"Sounds disgusting!" Hutch commented again as the car came to a stop in front of a tiny shack with some tables and chairs haphazardly set up in front. The only truly remarkable thing about the place was the line at the Order & Pickup Window. "Where the hell did all these people come from?" he said, astonished.
"I told you his egg burritos are fantastic! Mark my words, partner. One of these days some big-name restaurant is gonna pick up on this idea and make a million!" Before Starsky could order his breakfast, the radio crackled, waylaying his dash for the counter.
"Control to Zebra 3, we have a report of a dead body. Alley between 256 and 260 Westwood Drive."
"Responding," Starsky watched Hutch say into the radio, as he suddenly realized he wasn't hungry any more. He spun the car around and headed in the appropriate direction, his hands on automatic pilot as he wondered if the topsy-turvy feeling in his stomach was hunger or regret at another murder victim.
This time the victim had been removed from the dumpster by the time the pair arrived on the scene, the lab team pulling up only moments after the Torino. As they watched the team head for the garbage container, Starsky and Hutch directed their attention to the sheet-covered body and the uniformed rookie standing next to it. He looked slightly green to the more experienced officers.
"She been dead long?" Starsky asked before checking out the body for himself. He'd gotten used to seeing murder victims, but he knew that each new one still got to his partner and was trying to let Hutch prepare himself for viewing the body.
"No, only a few hours as far as I can tell. Looks like she was walking from the Stratford Hotel to the CSUN campus."
"Why do you say that?" Starsky asked abruptly.
"She's got a campus visitor's pass in her wallet and a hotel key to the Stratford in her purse. What would you think?"
"Any witnesses?" Hutch asked, his tone clipped, not deeming to answer the question.
"Just the guy who found her," the officer, whose name badge said Mahoney, responded respectfully. He knew who these two were, even if he'd never been introduced. The only way to get ahead was to show respect for your superiors, and a pair of Sergeants certainly outranked a lowly rookie. "That's him over with my partner."
Satisfied that the man was being thoroughly interviewed by Mahoney's seasoned partner, there was nothing left now but to examine the body. Starsky lifted the sheet slowly and gently, noting but not reacting to the flinch from the blond. "Same MO," Starsky muttered, noticing that the victim's head had been entirely shaved. "Wonder what color it used to be?" he said sadly.
As he continued to pull the sheet further down the stiffened body, he heard Hutch's sudden and painful-sounding gasp. It took Starsky a few minutes longer to recognize the girl, feeling like the walls were falling around him when he identified that face. Still, he recovered before his partner.
Starsky quickly covered the face, which had smiled so warmly at them both just a few days ago, and stood to take Hutch by the arms. The touch seemed to help; Hutch turned to his best friend with pain in his eyes. "It's Karen! Karen Kelley, Starsk! My God! She was Barbara's best friend, how am I ever going to tell her?"
"We'll do it together, buddy. She'll be okay-she's strong, like her brother." After making sure that everything was being attended to at the crime scene, Starsky led his still-worried partner to the car.
"I've got to tell her, Starsk," Hutch muttered. "I owe her that much, at least." He felt his stomach churn, but wasn't sure whether it was from the task at hand or the horror he'd just seen.
"Karen's mother has got to be told, too," Starsky added, remembering again how happy Bridget had looked to have her two daughters with her again.
"Barb said she was going to today's seminars with Bridget, since her classes haven't started yet. At least they'll be together when we tell them-that should help a little." Starsky heard his friend's voice crack throughout the last sentence, gently squeezing Hutch's shoulder in comfort.
"Having you with her will help Barbara too," Starsky reassured his best friend, whose worried face was filled with pain. "You'll all help each other." Even though Hutch had included Starsky like a brother, he still felt a little out of place in the proposed group, but was willing to go along as moral support for Hutch.

Once on the campus, both officers realized that they had no idea where the conference was being held. They did, however, know someone who would certainly be able to point them in the right direction.
The name plaque on the office door read "Meredith Sparks". It was partially opened, but Hutch knocked anyway before pushing it the rest of the way into the room. Meredith smiled as she looked up to admit them.
"Dave! Ken! How are my two favorite students? Keeping in practice, I hope?"
Hutch couldn't seem to muster a smile for her as Starsky did, but shook her hand when she offered it.
She could immediately tell that the handsome blond was upset. "What's wrong, Ken?"
"Can you tell me where the conference is taking place? I need to locate my sister and a woman named Bridget Kelley. You don't know Bridget, do you?"
"Sure, I'll show you the way there; a person could get lost in all these corridors. I've been meaning to get there anyway, if for no other reason than to finally meet that sister of yours, but preparation for the new semester has kept me too busy. I remember seeing the name Bridget Kelley on the attendance list, but I'm not familiar with her. Dave," she turned to the other man, "what's wrong?"
"Bridget Kelley was Hutch's sister Barbara's teacher back at the school. Sort of a surrogate mother too. We..." Starsky stammered, unable to meet his partner's eyes. "We found Bridget's daughter, who also just happens to be Barbara's best friend, dead this morning. She'd been murdered by this lunatic serial killer we've been hunting."
"And we've got to tell them," Hutch whispered, almost choking. Meredith watched as Starsky subtly laid a comforting hand on Hutch's arm, and wondered if they realized what a precious gift such a simple thing was.
"Oh, I'm so sorry! C'mon, I'll show you the way to the auditorium. If we can't spot them in the crowd-there're probably about 150 people in that room-we'll interrupt the speaker to ask them to come outside." Meredith's step was quick and purposeful as led them down a succession of corridors to a set of large double-doors. Opening one as quietly as possible, they stepped silently inside and looked around.
"There she is!" Hutch whispered, recognizing Barbara's honey-blonde hair. He took a tentative step forward, then was halted by Meredith's gentle hand on his arm. "Ken, she's going to be scared to death when she sees that look on your face. Yours too, Dave," she said, turning to Starsky. "Why don't you wait here, and I'll bring them out to you. I know I wouldn't want to be told this kind of terrible news in a room full of strangers!"
"You're probably right." Hutch swallowed hard, his opinion echoed by Starsky's nodding head. The teacher squeezed each man's hand and strode down the aisle. The partners slipped to the other side of the door, the room starting to seem stifling to them both. Once in the hallway, Hutch bent over, bracing his stiffened arms, his hands on his slightly crooked legs. Starsky watched his back spasm, the heaving breaths coming faster now.
"Take it easy, Hutch!" he comforted, rubbing the taller man's shoulders to calm him. "Slow it down, buddy...slow it down...you're gonna hyperventilate if you don't stop this. You can't face Barbara this way!"
"I know!" Hutch panted as he stood up straight. The anxiety attack had hit fast and hard, leaving a crushing pain in his chest. His mind flashed on the words "heart attack", although he knew better than that. The ache would go away as soon as he got his breathing under control, and that had to happen before Miss Sparks returned with the two women. Two women whose world he was about to bring crashing down around them, one of which he loved with all his heart.
"You okay, buddy?" Starsky asked finally, and the blue eyes that looked into Starsky's were clear once again, although the sadness was still etched there. Hutch nodded just in time to see the door begin to move.
The men turned to face them, side by side, feeling each other there. Once they were all in the corridor, Meredith had the graciousness to make herself inconspicuous while keeping close enough in case she was needed. Both men were grateful for her presence.
"What is it?" Bridget demanded, clearly unhappy at being pulled away from her seminar. Barbara looked into her brother's face and knew, right away, that he didn't want to tell her.
"I'm sorry, but it's important," Hutch said gently, forgetting to sign. Barbara watched his lips carefully and intensely, waiting to see what he would tell them.
"Tell us," Barbara asked him, and his eyes started to water as he looked at the two women before him.
"It's about Karen..." he began, and swallowed when he found he was unable to go on. Somehow, a connection neither knew existed imprinted words Barbara did not want to believe in her mind. She closed her eyes, signing simultaneously.
"No, I don't want to know! I don't have to know." If I keep my eyes closed, she thought, I'll never have to believe it-never have to know it!
Meredith came up behind Barbara as Starsky approached from the front. He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder as Meredith gently pulled the determined hands from the young woman's face. She had known the ignorance couldn't last, no matter how much she wanted it to, and let Meredith hold her hands as Starsky stayed nearby.
Bridget had missed the empathy Barbara and Hutch shared and was still in the dark when Hutch took a step closer to her. "I'm so sorry, Bridget. She's been killed." Barbara watched her brother's lips carefully, interpreting every word.
The victim's mother continued to look at the blond, stunned. Finally, she managed words. "She was in an accident?" He was peripherally aware of Barbara's sobbing in Starsky's arms, feeling guilty that it was him she turned to instead of her brother.
"No, I'm afraid she's been murdered. There's a serial killer going after women between 20 and 25. We found her an hour ago." By the time Bridget's tears finally came, Starsky, Barbara, Hutch, and Meredith were already in tears themselves. Thankfully, the corridor was deserted and the women cried themselves out eventually.
"I...I want to see my baby," Bridget managed, her face still wet.
"You don't have to do this," Hutch told her. Viewing the body would be even more difficult than hearing the news, and since Starsky and he were both able to ID the body, it just wasn't necessary. He looked at his sister with pained eyes, and she pushed herself away from Starsky's strong chest and wrapped her thin arms around her brother.
"Yes," Bridget said bravely, "I do."
Starsky led the older woman out of the building as Hutch kept a tight hold on his sister. They thanked Meredith as they left, promising to keep her updated on the whole situation. Bridget was ushered first into the back seat, but Hutch stopped Barbara before she could crawl in next to the now-trembling woman. "Would you please," he asked, resuming his sign, "consider staying at my place tonight. I don't really want to be alone, and I don't think you do either."
"I can't leave her alone, Ken. When we're done at the hospital, we'll go back to her hotel room. I'll stay with her." She climbed in as Starsky and Hutch shrugged at each other over the top of the Torino. They soundlessly agreed that they, too, would be spending the night in that hotel room. Barbara was being very brave, but both men were determined to be there for her if she needed them.

Starsky and Hutch had managed to convince Barbara to get some rest in Karen's room of the suite she'd shared with her mother. Bridget had gone into her own bedroom as soon as they'd returned, while Starsky, Hutch, and Barbara had sat on the couch in the small livingroom. Both men were glad that Barbara, who still seemed stunned, didn't have to listen to the heartbreaking sobs which resounded throughout the suite.
Now, hours later, it seemed that Barbara's shock had worn off. Hutch's eyes looked painfully into his partners as he listened to the sniffles that told him his sister was crying. He wanted to go to her, hold her and comfort her, but he was uncertain. Would she even let him?
"Go on," Starsky said in answer to his friend's unvoiced question. "It'll be okay. She needs you now, even if she doesn't want to admit it." The blond had tried before to put his arms around his sister, just after they got to the hotel room, but she'd pushed him away.
"Okay," Hutch whispered as he rose on creaking joints from the sofa. The clock on the wall next to the bedroom door said 4:00; the sun would be coming up in another hour or two. Barbara had to be ready for another day.
The door was open enough for Hutch to peek in, and in the dimness he saw the shadow sitting on the bed, her sweatpant-covered legs pulled up in front of her with her thin arms wrapped around them. She looked so small. Her head rested on her knees so his approach was unseen until she felt his hands on her. The tear-stained face she turned toward him made Hutch's heart cringe as he tried to pull her closer.
She shook her head no as she pushed away from him.
"You don't have to go through this alone, Barbara," Hutch told her. "You need me!"
"I don't need you! I can be just as strong as any man-even my big, brave detective brother!"
"Everybody needs to lean on somebody when life gets tough! I couldn't tell you the number of times I couldn't have gotten through if I hadn't had Starsk to help me! You've got nobody but the people in this apartment-and Bridget is in no shape to help. Please! Barbara, I love you! I need for you to let me help you through this. I know we still have problems to work out, and this won't affect that."
Barbara looked at her brother with tear-filled eyes, noticing that the blue eyes she peered into were filled with pain. Pain for her, or because of her? She wasn't sure, but she didn't want to see him hurting like that, even if she didn't understand him. She took the first step, reaching for the hand she had pushed away mere moments ago, and he let her take it in her own. Once in her grasp, she pulled him down on the bed next to her and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his shoulder. He held her, hesitantly at first, until her sobs diminished; he could almost feel how tired she was, nearly asleep on his shoulder.
Finally confident that she'd be able to sleep the remainder of the night, Hutch gently lowered her head to the pillow and covered her with the warm quilt. She snuggled into it and her breathing evened out as he watched, then Hutch left the room to return to the uncomfortable haven of the sofa.

Hutch, although exhausted, lay awake most of the night, consumed with worry over where Barbara would go from here. She'd go on, he told himself. There was nothing else to be done. But would he be able to go on like that, if it had been Starsky who had been killed? A resounding "no" had repeated itself over and over in his mind like a lullabye, until, at almost dawn, he finally fell asleep.
Barbara saw him there as she snuck a peak from her room around 8:00 am. He was a puzzle still, a paradox in a leather jacket. Her stomach still churned when she thought about Karen, and here was her brother, who she should feel comfortable leaning on, but just didn't. Resigned for the moment, she tightened the belt on her robe and padded toward the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. By the time she returned, Starsky, who had apparently not had as difficult time sleeping as his partner did, stirred from his spot on the couch, his legs stretched languorously over the coffee table and a blanket draped over them.
David Starsky cracked a dark-lashed eyelid and looked up into the innocent yet haggard face of his best friend's sister. Forgetting in the bleariness of his first wakeful moments, he opened his mouth to speak to her. Knowing what he had in mind, she put a long-nailed finger to her lips, then diverted the man's attention to his slumbering partner next to him. He quickly got the message and threw off the blanket, following the pretty blonde into the kitchen.
Starsky settled in at the small table there while Barbara poured two steaming cups of the brown liquid. "Do you want cream or sugar, Dave?"
"No, black is fine," Starsky signed, studying the young woman. "How are you this morning?"
It occurred to her that if her brother had asked the question, she might have become defensive, but she didn't feel that with Starsky. Her eyes watered, glistening, as she responded, "I'll be okay. I just need awhile."
Starsky knew better than to push the point, and let her go about, putting sugar and cream in her own coffee, then bringing both mugs to the table and sitting across from the handsome man.
After they had been sitting, not communicating, for a few moments, Barbara dragged her eyes from the cup in front of her to the bright, vibrant blue ones across from her. "David, will you tell me about my brother?"
She wants me to tell her? Starsky questioned himself. "What do you want to know?"
"Everything. I don't understand him, and I need to. I really need to if I'm going to have him in my life."
"I don't know where to start. Hutch is my best friend-the most important person in my life. We're like twins, two people from the same egg, although we're not identical. When he hurts, I do too; it works the other way around, too. You seem like you're not sure you trust him to lean on. Well, I can tell you, I've leaned on him a lot, and he's never once let me down. He was there when my fiance died last year, willing to do whatever I wanted until I felt better. Whether it was staying or going, he did it."
"You make it sound like he's perfect. Nobody on this planet is perfect, Dave. If they were, they wouldn't be human."
"Barbara, don't misunderstand me. Hutch isn't perfect, and sometimes he drives me totally out of my mind. Then I turn around and do the same to him. But he's a good person, and if he has some annoying traits, his most annoying one is that he feels responsible for making everything right for everybody else, then gets down on himself when he can't possibly do it. He'd probably kill me if he knew I told you this, but when he found out you were coming to down, he tied himself in knots trying to figure out how he would make amends with you. He felt so guilty. Did you know we've been taking this sign language class for an entire semester? And he's signed up for another one starting in the fall. He cares, and it's his biggest downfall."
"What do you mean, downfall? How can caring too much be bad?"
"In our business, it is. He thinks he's covering it up, but every time he sees a kid on drugs or a girl walkin' the streets to make ends meet, I can see the pain in his eyes. He wants to make the world right for everyone, and it's just not possible. Do you understand?"
"I think I understand a lot." She seemed to lighten her mood, smiling into the vibrant eyes as Starsky followed her lead. "So, tell me. You two must have had an exciting life since you joined the police force. Any interesting stories you can share?" She propped her chin on her palms, looking years younger than her actual age.
"Yeah, I guess," he responded, and told her about many of their cases, accentuating the ones that would tell her, by actions instead of words, what her brother was like. When he got to the kidnapping case and the ransom drop, her eyes were large circles.
"You mean he didn't have to do all that running, delivering the ransom, but he did anyway?"
"Yes. Because he knew he was the best suited for the job and the best chance for us to get that girl back alive."
"But he could have been killed. If he hadn't been wearing a bullet-proof vest..."
"Exactly. I actually forgot about that vest for a few minutes, too. When I thought he'd been killed..."
"What?" she prompted, trying to get him to go on.
"Well, I lost it a little, I'm afraid. But when I saw him laying there, propped up against the door, alive, you never saw a happier man."
"So he was all right, then." Barbara stated, not questioned, starting to act more and more concerned about her brother.
"Well, I wouldn't say he was really all right. He was cut up pretty bad when he fell through the window, banged his head going down, and that shotgun broke a couple of ribs. But he wouldn't let me take him to the hospital to get checked out until after we'd found the girl."
"It's hard to believe you're talking about my brother. I never thought of him that way." She made a mental note to herself to ask again about any other injuries Ken may have gotten in his job as a police officer. Starsky talked about it so casually, maybe it just wasn't as big a deal to him as it was to her, and she wanted to know what else he might not have mentioned.
"But, Barbara," he told her, taking her hand for a moment before going on, "that's who he is."
"It's still hard. I'm going to have to try to forget everything I've thought or felt about him all these years and judge him for what I see myself."
"Sounds like you've got a tough time ahead of you."
"That's okay. It'll give me something to keep my mind on besides Karen." At the mention of her friend's name, her eyes began to tear again, and Starsky gently reached up to wipe the water droplets from her cheeks. She took his hand gently as he touched her, turning it over and kissing the palm. "Thank you, David," she said gratefully. Barbara released his hand and they finished their coffee with a silent warmth, the woman's thoughts reaching out to Bridget and Hutch in the next rooms.

The following days were filled with arrangements being made and the difficult event of Karen's funeral. It was held in a small church near the university, and Bridget left later that day to take her beloved daughter's body home for a memorial service and her burial. Starsky and Hutch tried to ignore Barbara and Bridget's sobs as they drove them to the airport behind the hearse that would deliver Karen to the jet. Her mother seemed beaten, old as they'd never seen her.
Barbara watched, crying, as Hutch gallantly helped Bridget from the back seat of the LTD. Starsky retrieved her luggage from the trunk as she watched the large black car in front of them disappear around the corner of the terminal. The tragic foursome walked hand in hand in hand in hand through the gates as the surrounding throng watched. They were oblivious to it, though, as the two men studied with concern the women who walked between them. They were almost too quiet, with not a word exchanged between them for the entire ride.
As they approached the ramp that led to the plane which would take her home, Bridget turned to Barbara, her eyes brimming again. She spread her arms wide and Barbara walked into them, each woman clinging to the other as if for dear life. When the loudspeaker announced the final boarding call, Bridget pushed away from the small blond figure.
"I've got to go," she told her protoge. "I love you! Please be careful!" She kissed Barbara on the cheek and rewarded Starsky and Hutch the same before rushing, sobbing, into the ramp.
The two officers watched Barbara's back as she stared after the woman. Starsky noticed the longing look in his partner's eyes. "Go ahead," he told Hutch, motioning to Barbara with a nod.
"I'm not sure I should," he whispered, although he knew he wouldn't have had to. "Seems like she'd rather it be you than me lately."
"Are you sure?" Starsky questioned. "You really haven't talked much since Karen was killed. Maybe she's changed her mind."
"What could have happened?" Hutch asked doubtfully, ignorant of the conversation his partner and his sister had had concerning him.
"Well, you told me yourself that she cried on your shoulder that first night. That should mean something, y'know?" Hutch looked at him, the fear in his eyes different than any he's shown his partner before. "G'won, blintz. If all else fails, just turn on the charm."
"She'd never fall for that," Hutch muttered. "She's my sister, not a beautiful woman."
"I got news for you, partner," Starsky said, grinning, "your sister is a beautiful woman."
Hutch stepped from his partner's side and went to Barbara, wrapping his long arms around her from the back and pulling her close to his chest. She surprised him when she turned around and buried her face in his shirt. He could feel the dampness from her face as it penetrated his shirt down to the skin. Her thin arms encircled his waist, and Starsky smiled at the sight of the siblings. Maybe they weren't happy, but they were certainly making great strides in establishing the trust they wanted.

Hutch was deathly afraid of leaving Barbara alone the following day while he went to work, not yet having the security of knowing she'd be in school. He and Starsky had management to talk her into spending the day at Metro, with Dobey playing a kind if not totally willing host. He found her to be a most charming young woman with a gentle nature, very much like her brother.
"We've got to go out on patrol," Hutch told her gently as he and Starsky headed for the door. "Promise you'll stay here?" She had been so upset by the death of her friend, it frightened him to admit that he wasn't sure what she was capable of. She nodded her head at him gently, and he reminded her before he left that she'd have to write any requests to the people here because they didn't know sign.
Once they were gone, Dobey let her settle in the comfortable chair in his office. "Can I get you a cup of coffee?" he asked her, being sure to face her so she could read his lips. She nodded her head and he left her to her thoughts while he fetched the toxic brew from the squadroom.
When the black man returned to his office, he found the young woman had been writing. She handed him the note thoughtfully in exchange for the mug. The Captain read over the neat handwriting. "You want to read your brother's police file? Why?"
She looked at him with pleading eyes and wrote again. "I need to know what kind of man my brother is. I haven't seen him in many, many years. Please!"
"Well, we don't usually let just anybody read the officers' records, but since you're his sister, I guess it would be okay." The cabinet along the wall rewarded him with a thick file with the details of Ken Hutchinson's work, major cases, and accomplishments on the force. He laid it in her hands almost reverently, forgetting that the file also contained the documentation of his on-the-job injuries.

"Do you really think she'll have enough to do all day, hangin' around the station?" Starsky wondered aloud.
"I'm sure she'll figure something out, Starsk, so stop worrying!" Hutch told his partner. "Dobey'll give her some coffee and don't forget she brought all her books to study from. The day'll be over before she knows it!"
"Hutch, why did you insist that she spend the day there? It's not like either of us will be able to help her if she starts feelin' depressed or anything." The dark haired officer braked for the stop light and looked over at his partner in the passenger side. The expression told him that Hutch was uncertain, and begged him not to pursue it. "Oh, gut instinct, huh? Okay, never mind."
Hutch nodded slightly, knowing Starsky understood the difficulty he sometimes had in putting these feelings into words. The impulse he felt that Barbara was in some kind of danger didn't make sense, but there it was, nonetheless, and he was powerless to ignore it. At least he could feel secure in the knowledge that his sister was back at the station under the fatherly eye of Captain Dobey.
As if reading his mind, Starsky said, "Did you see Dobey's face when we introduced him to Barbara? You'd think we were doctors saying `it's a girl' or somethin'!" He smiled; knowing what a good father the captain was, she was in good hands.
"Attention all units and Zebra 3," suddenly interrupted them from the radio. "Reports of a woman screaming in the alley between 1093 and 1097 Halloway."
"Think that could be our man?" Starsky questioned as he spun the car in a wide arc, making it difficult for Hutch to grab the mike and inform control that they were responding.
"I don't know. He's never been sloppy enough to let the victim get out a scream. Probably somebody totally different," he added as he reached out the window to put on the mars light.
With Starsky at the wheel, it was only a couple of minutes before they skidded to a stop in front of the alley-long before any marked police cars arrived. The alley was devoid of life, and the reaction of the passers-by indicated they hadn't suspected anything. Perhaps one of the residents of the apartments above had heard the commotion and called the police, not going so far as to go down and check it out themselves.
Both officers drew their guns as they approached the alley's mouth; too many rookies got killed assuming a perpetrator had left the scene when he was really in hiding. A thorough search of the alley netted them no suspect, then Hutch eyed the large garbage container warily.
"You gonna look, or should I?" he questioned his partner.
"I'm older-you do it!" Starsky muttered to Hutch.
"Starsk, that makes absolutely no sense."
"Sure it does. I'm older, so I give the orders. You check it out!"
"Oh, all right! You can be a real baby sometimes, y'know that, partner?" Still, Hutch hesitated a moment before approaching the dumpster. Starsky watched his face turn green as he looked inside, instantly appearing at the blond's side with a reassuring hand on his arm.
The young woman inside didn't move as Starsky and Hutch climbed inside to check for a pulse. She was unresponsive and there were no vital signs. "Another victim," Hutch muttered, his voice echoing inside the otherwise-empty container. "What a waste."
"She hasn't been dead long; her skin's still warm... I'll go call a meat wagon," Starsky volunteered, beginning to lever himself out of the dumpster.
When he returned, Hutch was still standing inside with a puzzled expression on his face.
"C'mon, partner. There's nothing you can do for her now." His voice was soft, for Hutch's ears only, and Hutch heard it clearly despite the cacophony of the sirens of several arriving squad cars.
"Something's not right here, Starsk." He stood still for a few more moments, testing everything his senses were telling him, then looked once more at the victim. Having been interrupted this time by the approach of their siren, the killer hadn't gotten the victim's head totally shaved. A small section of straight, auburn-colored hair remained still.
"Maybe it'll come to you after awhile, partner," Starsky responded, still trying to convince his partner to come out. "We'll talk to forensics later and see what they find out."
Finally, Hutch climbed out of the dumpster, landing gracefully at his Starsky's side, then stepping out of the way to allow the crew to remove the young woman and any evidence the killer might have left behind. Interviewing the passers-by was a boring and unproductive job, but it had to be done, so they set to the task. By the time they were finished, the victim had been removed and was under a white sheet on the sidewalk.
Both men came back to stand beside the body, wondering if there was anything more they could do at the moment. Starsky watched his partner with careful eyes; cases like this made Hutch so tired...
The blond suddenly began to sniffle, and for a moment Starsky wondered if he was crying. But his eyes were clear. "What's up, Hutch?"
"You smell that, Starsk?" He sniffed again.
"No, I don't smell anything."
"I smell some kind of amonia. No, not that exactly, but something close. I can't remember what it is." Hutch's brow furrowed as he concentrated harder, trying to reach for a distant memory.
A moment passed when Starsky stayed silent, hoping that it would help the blond. Finally, Hutch looked up sharply. "Starsk, she smells like permanent solution."
"Permanent solution? You mean permanent glue?"
"No, dummy! You know, the stuff hairdressers put on ladies' hair when they give them perms?"
"Oh, yeah. I didn't recognize it. The only time I ever was around something like that was that case when we were under cover in that beauty salon. And even then I was distracted `cause Huggy kept calling for help every couple minutes. I was never so glad as when he closed that PI business!"
"Well, I do remember it. And she's got that stuff on her, I'm sure." Hutch suddenly had a spark in his light blue eyes, like he was ready to take on the world.
"Take it easy, buddy," Starsky warned. "Maybe she was comin' from gettin' a perm."
"Starsk, look at the hair that's the killer missed. It's straight. No way she just had a perm."
"Well, then, maybe she's a hairstylist."
"Or maybe the killer is," Hutch added, looking optimistic."
"It's possible, but don't get your hopes up. After all this time, there's not a lot of chance he'd make a mistake like that now." From Hutch's left, Starsky lay his right hand on the blond's shoulder, steering his partner to the waiting car. "Let's file the report and check on Barbara; she's gotta be climbing the walls by now."

Going through her brother's file for the second time, Barbara was oblivious to the passing of the hours. It took a great deal of convincing on Dobey's part to talk her into walking down to the cafeteria with him for some lunch. But as soon as they were done, she buried herself in the reports once again.
"Did Ken really do all this?" she wrote, asking him for reassurance. How could one man have done so much in only ten years. Dobey nodded, smiling.
"Your brother is one of my two best men." She looked at him with eyebrows raised, waiting for him to go on. "And, yes, Dave Starsky is the other one."
"What is this about a `formal reprimand' a few months ago?" The report wasn't clear about what Hutch had done wrong, the actuality of the incident confused in complicated terms.
She watched Dobey chuckle to himself, though clearly trying to hide it. "Ken and Dave did an exceptional job on a case awhile back, so they were invited to address the graduating class at the police academy. Everyone was so anxious to hear their speech, thinking they'd get an idea of how they did so well. The commissioner could have killed them when they told those rookies to forget all the rules they'd been taught. Everybody knows that cops these days have to bend the rules to do their jobs well, but it's not something people really talk about, and saying it to 200 new recruits isn't exactly the correct procedure."
Barbara nodded that she understood, returning that particular sheet to the file and withdrawing several more which were stapled together. When he saw what she held, Captain Dobey's expression was one of surprise.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have let you see that! Injury reports are supposed to be confidential."
She flipped the pages, watching as each report went through her fingers. There were so many! "How can Ken have gotten hurt this many times?!" she wrote.
"Look," he told her, smiling in a way he never did in front of his men, "There's one sure thing about your brother and his partner. They go all out, no matter what. They'll risk their necks if there's a chance it'll save a civilian. They're very brave, but brave men get hurt, sometimes killed. And yes, there have been some very close calls. But they're still here because they cover each other; that helps more than you'll ever know."
"Is Dave's as bad as Ken's?" she asked, not certain she wanted to know the answer.
"Actually, it's worse. In addition to everything else, Dave tends to be a little accident prone. But then again, he's not the one who caught that plague."
"I don't think he ever told Mom and Dad about that because they've never said anything to me. Why wouldn't he tell us? We're his family!" Barbara's writing was getting harder to read as she rushed to get all her thoughts down.
"I'm sure he didn't want you to worry. That's the way Hutch is sometimes: closed off from everybody except Starsky. Some day, all he's kept pent up is going to explode, and I'm afraid that some suspect will take the brunt of it."
"You don't really think that, do you?" The comment wasn't wasted on Barbara, her having seen the smoldering passion behind the blue eyes when her brother was upset. But it never dawned on her that he was capable of hurting anybody.
"No, not really. Not unless that somebody were to make the mistake of hurting Starsky. Then his life wouldn't be worth a nickel. The same is true of Starsky when Hutch is injured."
"How could Dave let Ken get hurt all these times? It's unbelievable!"
"He didn't exactly `let' him, Miss Hutchinson," Dobey responded, shaking his head. "It's a hazard of the job. Like I said before, Starsky's been injured at least as many times, probably more. They try to take care of each other; it just doesn't always work out." He looked at the puzzled girl for a moment, almost seeing the wheels turning in her head. "Why don't I leave you alone for awhile. I've got some warrants to check out anyway." He left her in his office, bent over the folder. "Oh!" he said, coming back to her for a moment. "Please don't tell Ken that I let you read his file." He smiled gently and left the room, his demeanor reminding her of her own father's.

When Starsky and Hutch stumbled, exhausted, back into the squadroom at the end of the shift, the young woman who greeted them was changed from the Barbara they had left there that morning. The grief was still shaddowed in her eyes, but there was also a very strong note of concern there. And relief too, which confused Hutch.
"I'm sorry you had such a boring day," he told her, feeling like she was anticipating something from him.
"I'm just glad that you're okay!" She hugged him briefly as he and his partner exchanged puzzled expressions over her shoulder.
"Are you okay?" Starsky asked her when she'd release her hold on her brother. "You seem..." he wasn't sure of the right word, either in speach or in sign.
"I'm fine," she told him, a brilliant smile replacing her concern. "I've just heard so many stories today around the station about you two getting into trouble. You just had me worried."
"We're both fine," Hutch reassured, hugging her back this time. "Don't worry!" How could one day at the station cause this change! She genuinely seemed to care about him, not that he thought she didn't before, but this was more intense.
"Can we go home now?"
"I'm sorry, we've got a report we have to file first. Why don't you let Starsky take you down to the commissary for a cup of coffee while I finish it up. He's never much good at them anyway." Hutch was a little surprised at himself for voluntarily sending his libidinous partner along with her. But he was the man he most trusted with his life. How much danger could there be in trusting him for a half hour or so with his sister?
Barbara nodded her agreement as Starsky slipped an arm around her waist and led her through the double swinging doors. Plopping himself down behind his desk, he inserted a form into the typewriter and began to pick at the keys, one by one, until the report was finished.
Starsky lifted the two styrofoam cups and returned to the table where Barbara waited. He was very much aware of the eyes that were on them as he sat across from her. Did they know this was Hutch's sister, or were they just interested in any woman that Starsky liked enough to actually bring to the station?
He was paying too much attention to those around him, and the hot coffee sloshed over the side and onto his knuckles. "Yeow!" he shouted, gritting his teeth and shaking the coffee from his burned left hand. Barbara's eyes immediately became sympathetic, and she reached a thin-fingered hand to examine the damage, pulling the hand closer to her own side of the table.
"It's okay," he told her as she read his lips. "It's just a little burn. I was more surprised than hurt." She twisted her hold on the hand until their palms were together, and she felt a shiver up her spine when she felt the warmth there. He didn't pull away, the two of them sitting that way for quite some time. Finally, they returned both hands to their cups.
"We'd better finish up," Starsky said, smiling. "Hutch is a lot faster than you'd think on that typewriter." She looked a little regretful at that, Starsky's heart skipping a beat when he saw the reaction. "Hey, how would you like to go out to dinner with me tomorrow night. Maybe even a movie afterwards? We could find a foreign one with subtitles, that way we'd both be in the same boat!"
Barbara laughed silently, knowing that he was hoping to cheer her up with the evening out. "I think the three of us will have a great time!" she enthused.
"No, that's not what I meant," Starsky blushed a little, surprised she had misunderstood. In reality, she had suspected what he was really trying to say, but wanted clarification. "I meant just you and me. We'll leave Hutch at home this time."
"Okay," she signed, her smile brighter than the stars in the heavens. "I'd enjoy that, Dave."
"Good! I'll pick you up at your place about 6:00?" She nodded happily, also feeling a little guilty that she was anticipating such happiness only a few days after her friend's death. Guilt, like stubborness, was also something that ran very strongly in the Hutchinson clan.
Barbara practically bounced back into the squadroom, just as Hutch pulled the final report from the typewriter. Starsky followed a ways behind her, allowing her to tell her brother in her own way about their date. Once they'd dropped her at home tonight, they could talk out anything they needed to, man to man.
Unknowing, Hutch smiled at the spirit he saw in his sister. "What's going on? I'm done here; are you two ready to go?"
"Oh, Ken! I have the best news! Dave is going to take me out to dinner tomorrow night!"
"Really?" he said, stunned, his eyes traveling from the girl to his partner. "That's nice." It wasn't nice, but he wasn't sure what he was feeling. Protectiveness? Jealousy? Fear of what would happen if they started something that couldn't work? Hutch decided it was all these things, and maybe more.
"Are you finished up here?" She asked, interrupting his pondering.
"Yeah, let's go. It sounds like you've got a big day planned tomorrow." To Barbara, Ken didn't look particularly happy. But he hadn't said anything either, and she was willing to take that as the best compromise she was going to get.

The apartment virtually trembled with the ringing of the telephone, breaking through the soft nest of sleep that surrounded the bed in the Venice apartment. Struggling to the surface, Hutch fumbled for the phone, nearly knocking it off the bedside table in his desire to silence the cacophony.
"Yeah?" he mumbled, his bleary eyes noticing that the clock said only 6:00.
"Excuse me," he voice on the line said, "may I speak to Ken Hutchinson?"
"Yeah, that's me. Who is this?" And why are you calling me at the crack of dawn, he questioned mentally.
"This is the relay service, sir. I have a call for you from Barbara Hutchinson."
"Oh!" he remarked, pushing himself awkwardly to a sitting position. "Okay. I've never done this before. What do I do?"
"If you'll give me one moment, I'll inform the caller that I have you on the line. She'll tell me what to say, I'll relay it to you, and then relay your answer to her."
"Sure, I'll wait. Go ahead." Once involved in the exchange, Hutch was amazed that it could work, but he also found the slowness of the process a little frustrating. He listened as his sister finally got to the point of her early-morning call.
"I talked to Meredith here on campus, and she told me about the best salon. I want to have my hair done for tonight. She said she could drop me off for my 11:00 appointment, but I wonder if you could pick me up about noon." It seemed strange to hear Barbara's words, and to keep his mind on what was being said.
"That shouldn't be a problem," he told the service, "but why don't you just take a cab? I thought you liked the idea of being independent."
There was a pause while the message was typed to Barbara's TDD and she typed her response back to him. Finally, "You know I do, Ken. But I sort of wanted a man's opinion before I see Dave tonight."
"Can I presume, then, that you'd like me to leave Starsky back at the station?" He asked, a wry grin on his face. For a moment, he let the worry slip away and just noticed how sweet his sister was acting.
"Yes. Is it possible?"
"Sure. I'll see you at noon, okay?"
"Thank you, Ken," the relay operator said after another pause. "Goodbye."
Hutch wasn't sure whether he was supposed to say goodbye to the operator as well, so he compromised. "Goodbye, Barbara. Thank you for the relay, Miss."
"You're welcome, sir. Goodbye." The woman was very polite, impressing Hutch with her professionalism. She must hear so many intimate details of people's lives, yet she has to learn not to think about it. That must be a very difficult job, he thought as he pryed himself out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

Since Starsky and Barbara were planning an evening of entertainment and good company, Hutch saw no reason why he should have to wait at home worrying. About mid-morning, a brainstorm came to him. After managing to convince Starsky to pull over at a pay phone, he dialed the University, asking for Meredith Sparks' extension. Luckily, she was in her office, and it took very little convincing to entice her into spending the evening with him. He returned to the Torino smiling, with the background hope that he'd be able to distract himself from Starsky's date with his own sister.
Leaving Starsky at the station to get lunch at the commissary and type up some reports from their mostly-uneventful morning, Hutch borrowed the Torino and went to pick up Barbara. He'd never heard of the salon she'd mentioned, but with address in hand, he felt sure he'd be able to find it. Hutch noticed the letters on the front of the building, Beautiful You Salon, as he drove by, and grumbled as he pulled around the block to approach again. Passing through the doorway, he laughed aloud at the list of stylists who worked there. Third on the list was Tyrone Simpson. And I thought I was the only Mr. Tyrone, he thought. Didn't think there was a real one!
"And what, may I ask, do you find so amusing?" The voice came from a snooty-looking woman behind the counter, her glasses pulled down to look over them at him.
"Ahhh..." he cleared his throad, "nothing, really. Just something I was thinking about."
"Oh. Well, what can I do for you today? Maybe a perm, or a more modern haircut. We could even put in some high-lites-might help to bring out the blondness in your hair.
"No, thank you, ma'am," he said, accentuating the "ma'am" in the hope of rattling the older woman. "I like my hair just fine the way it is. I'm actually picking up my sister, Barbara Hutchinson. Is she ready?"
"Just a moment, Mr. Hutchinson," she smiled venomously. "I'll check." The narrow-featured woman disappeared for a few minutes. "She'll be out in about five minutes. The stylist is just finishing up her hair. You may have a seat if you wish." She motioned to a chair in the vestibule area, which he took slowly. The magazines available were uninteresting, he noted, standing to walk the area instead.
Rows and rows of shampoos and conditioners were lined up under many Styrofoam heads which wore wigs of various styles and colors. White tags hang from each one, and after he'd read the labels on all the shampoos, he started looking at the price tags. "Why would a woman pay $50 for one of these things?" he whispered to himself, thinking again how little he understood the female of the species. The prices varied from $50 to $75, depending on the length and style. The last in the line was a shorter style, and Hutch gasped when he looked at its tag.
"This has got to be a mistake!" he said out loud, addressing the receptionist who had returned to her desk. "This price tag says twenty-five hundred dollars!"
"Of course it does. It's supposed to," she answered haughtily.
"Why is that one so expensive?" he asked, curious.
"My dear boy, that is a real human-hair wig. They're very expensive because they're very rare."
Before he could say anything, the woman's eyes went to the person behind him. "Oh, here she is! Isn't she beautiful?!"
When Hutch turned around to look for his sister, instead he saw a striking blond woman with a full, curly head of luxurious hair reminiscent of Farrah Fawcett. Her hair was normally straight with very slight waves, very much like his own. He staired for a full thirty seconds before realizing it was Barbara. "On second throught," he said to her when he'd found his voice, "maybe your going out with Starsky isn't such a great idea." What would his partner think-or feel-when he saw her looking like this?
"Don't you like it?" She asked, hesitantly. She wasn't sure she really wanted to know, based on the look her brother wore.
"Barbara, you're breathtaking!"
"Thank you!" she told him, reassured. "Shall we go now?" She motioned toward the door, and he held it for her as she alighted onto the street, frowning at the men who gawked as they passed by.

Barbara waited impatiently for Starsky to pick her up, her mind straying to her brother's date with Meredith. She liked the pretty teacher very much, and made a silent wish that they would have a pleasurable evening together. For herself, she was eager, yet still nervous. An actual date was very different than a short kiss on the couch in her room. Although her social life had always been very full, she'd rarely dated a hearing man before; Barbara knew this particular man, plus her new surroundings, could introduce her to a great deal of new experiences, not necessarily all of them pleasurable.
The lights flashed at exactly 6:00, surprising Barbara. From what she had seen and heard lately, she'd expected him to be late. She'd chosen something to wear that was somewhere between dressy and casual, deciding on an above-the-knee T-shirt dress that she knew hugged every curve as if it were made for her. When she opened the door, she was surprised at the vision that she beheld. Apparently on the same wave length, Starsky had donned a pair of freshly pressed navy dress pants and a pristine white polo shirt. The white and blue set off his eyes remarkably as she smiled into them.
Those blue orbs looked mildly surprised, examining her from toes on up until their gazes locked silently. Her stare was pulled from his by a warm, gentle smile that spoke volumes to the girl. He said nothing, only offering his arm to escort her out of the apartment. "Let me get my purse," she told him, disappearing into the bedroom and returning after only a moment.
Three hours later, Starsky escorted Barbara into a family-style restaurant that smelled of mashed potatoes and roasted beef. It was nice, clean, and above all, comfortable. It was a place where Barbara couldn't help but smile, her grin growing when a fatherly-looking grey-haired man came from the kitchen to greet her date.
"Dave!" the owner called, quickly wrapping Starsky in a bear hug. She noticed him blush, but endure the hug, which ended just short of cracking ribs. "Where have you been? Do you realize how much my business has been off since the last time you brought a lovely lady in here?" He turned the smile to Barbara, grabbing her hand and pumping it madly. "And what a lovely lady she is too! Much more beautiful than any of the others." He raised his eyebrows expectantly, apparently waiting for a name to be spoken by one of them. The candles adorning each table reflected in the friendly eyes.
"Marcus, this is Barbara," he signed, and spoke at the same time, eliciting a confused expression from the restaurant owner. "Barbara is deaf, but she can read your lips."
Marcus smiled and spoke directly to her. "You look very familiar to me, Barbara...you're face and those blue eyes! Have you ever been here before?" Barbara shook her head, and gave Starsky a shy smile, allowing him to decide whether or not to tell.
"There's probably a good reason she looks familiar to you, Marc, `cause Barbara is Hutch's sister." He laughed at his friend's surprise as the man turned back from where he had been leading them to a quiet corner table.
"This little girl is Ken Hutchinson's sister? And he actually let her go out with you?!" He laughed again, neither noticing nor caring about the patrons' stares. As Starsky sat down, he held the chair for Barbara, remarking over her head that he'd better behave himself tonight or there'd be hell to pay. Starsky nodded , grinning, as he handed them their menus then walked away.
They each looked over their menus for a few minutes before the burly waiter came over, ready to serve them. The man was practically a giant-Starsky estimated him at taller than 6'5"-with brown hair, a bushy mustache, and a black pants-and-vest outfit that was strained to the limits.
"May I tell you about tonight's specials?" he questioned, not actually allowing the customers time to answer before he went on. "We have a very nice chicken fricassee over biscuits; and if you prefer seafood, we are also offering shrimp in a basket. We also offer a vegetarian platter with eggplant and tofu."
Barbara scrutinized the waiter carefully, but no matter how hard she concentrated, she was unable to discern what he was saying. The bushy mustache was too much in the way. She looked to Starsky, hoping for an interpretation, but he was busy nodding and listening to the waiter, apparently unaware of her circumstances. At a loss for anything else to do, she went back to perusing the menu. Eventually, the waiter left them to make their own decisions without his looking over their shoulders.
"So, what do you think?" Starsky asked Barbara, laying a gentle hand on her arm to get her to look at him. She smiled at him and went back to the menu. Finally, she set it down.
"I wish they had something besides side dishes that don't have meat in them. I can't be the only person in Los Angeles who doesn't eat meat."
"Well, you could always get that special he was tellin' us about." She looked at him, a little embarrassed, because she had no idea what he was talking about.
"Dave, could you tell me about that special? I'm afraid I couldn't tell what the waiter was talking about because of his mustache." The admission was difficult for her-she hated to admit needing help-but she managed it without too much embarrassment.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Dave told her, all apologies. "I didn't think...I didn't realize..." He cleared his throat, knowing she couldn't hear it anyway, and went on to tell her about the vegetarian special he'd heard all about.
"I'd like that, Dave. Would you tell him?" Normally, she had no problem pointing out on a menu the item she'd like. This was very different. The waiter returned, and he ordered for both of them, interpretting when they were asked about salad dressings and bread preferences. Barbara was very uncomfortable; she hated feeling like she couldn't communicate.
"So," Starsky asked once the waiter had left, "how did you like the movie?"
"It was okay, I guess," she admitting, taking the stink out of her statement with her smile. "A little bit high-brow for my tastes, but still pretty good. Next time, though, I could go for one with a little more action in it! Maybe even a little science fiction!"
Starsky laughed openly at that. Barbara might look a lot like her brother, but her tastes were very different!
It did get better after that, once the interaction with the restaurant staff was finished. As they waited for their orders and ate them, they discussed their lives and likes, with the subject often returning to the one person they both had in common. She wanted to ask him about a particular subject, but wasn't sure how to bring up the subject. Finally, she just said it straight.
"Dave, Ken's been hurt a lot, hasn't he?"
Starsky blinked a little in surprise, but had given up trying to predict this very unpredictable woman, so it didn't last long. "Well, we have dangerous jobs. I'm afraid sometimes it simply can't be avoided."
"I learned about a lot of them at the precinct the other day. He seems to have recovered from all of them just fine, though. I guess I'm just a natural worrier," she silently laughed, but the concern was still in her vibrant blue eyes.
Starsky hesitated, then decided to tell her everything. It might help her understand him even better; to heal the final rifts that still remained between them. "He's been through even more that don't show up on the records and that nobody at the office knows about. And it wasn't all physical, although that's a big part of it."
"Tell me," she said simply.
"There have been so many, I'm not even sure where to start. And I'm not sure I would have made it through if it had been me. He had a woman, Gillian, that he loved very much, but she was murdered because she was seeing him-I don't think he ever really forgave himself for it, and another who decided that if she couldn't have him, nobody was going to."
"You're not telling me she tried to kill him?"
"I'm afraid so. Someday, take a look at his upper left arm. He's got a hell of a scar where she got him with a butcher knife. He was in the shower at the time. He was really shook after that, always locking the door after going in. He doesn't think I know that, though," he smiled.
"It sounds like he's had a tough time with his girlfriends."
"Yes. There have been so many, but the ones he really cared for hurt him the worst. He dated Abby for a long time. Then she got attacked because he was a cop, and once she recovered, she left town. That hurt him bad. Jeannie was probably the hardest on him, though." As soon as he brought up Jeannie, he realized it might have been his biggest mistake. All he could hope was that she'd not pursue it too much. It was too much to ask for, though.
"What happened? Who was this Jeannie?"
"I'm sorry," he apologized, trying to squirm out of revealing Hutch's secret. "I shouldn't have brought it up. Please, forget I said anything."
"I can't forget, Dave. I want to know everything about my brother. Will it help if I tell you I won't tell another living soul?"
"I guess it's the best I can do." She nodded and he went on. "He was dating this girl, Jeannie, who had gone with this mobster before Hutch. She was really scared because this guy wanted her back, and had the power to force her if he found her. Hutch stashed her in a beachhouse somewhere and didn't tell anybody where she was-not even me. Well, I guess Forrest and his goons decided that Hutch was still their best lead, so they grabbed him one night when he got home from work."
"You mean he was kidnapped?"
"Yeah, and even worse." He hesitated for a few moments, silently arguing with himself over whether or not he should reveal all the details to Hutch's sister.
"Dave, what did they do to him?" She demanded, giving him no escape. He couldn't lie to her, especially not if he was as bad at it as Hutch always claimed.
"Okay, but you've got to promise to keep your cool and keep this to yourself. Hutch would kill me if he knew I told you. Well, what happened was...well, they..." finally he decided that the only way he was going to get it out was to just say it. "They beat him up pretty bad trying to get him to tell them where she was. When that didn't work, they got really nasty." Barbara's eyes went up expectantly when Starsky hesitated again. "They had him for four days. Except for the first few hours, they were shooting him up with heroin every few hours all that time." Barbara looked horrified and scared at the same time. "You see, they figured if they could get him really hooked, then stop giving him the shots, the withdrawal pains would be enough to make him talk. Unfortunately for Hutch, they were. He got away eventually, and I helped him go cold turkey, but he still had to live with the knowledge that not only was he a drug addict, but he had also given them what they wanted. I'm afraid that's scarred him more than anything else we've been through."
Starsky hadn't realized he had been avoiding looking into her eyes until he had to raise his head to see them now. When he did, he saw her brother's pain reflected in their blue depths. As a few drops escaped from her mascara'd eyelashes, she looked at him, unable to come up with anything to say. Then she saw the pain in his eyes as well. "It must have been almost as painful for you, I'd think." It was a surprisingly rational thought, she realized, to be coming from somebody whose insides felt like they were coming out. Every organ in her body felt like it was trembling of its own accord from the unsettling news about her brother.
"Thank God, you'll never know. Two days locked in a room, with Hutch begging me to get him the stuff to make his agony stop. Seeing him writhing on the bed and knowing I couldn't do a damn thing to help. Seeing him go from weak to angry, throwing things and calling me every name in the book because I wouldn't let him out to score a fix. He wasn't Hutch then, and I was fighting to get my partner back."
He reached up to wipe the free-falling tears from her cheeks, and she took his hand gently. "I can tell it wasn't easy for you to tell me about this. Thank you. I think I can understand a little why he kept his distance. Even if he doesn't consciously realize it, I think somewhere deep down, he's been trying to protect all of us all this time."
"You mean by not being in contact with you or his folks a whole lot?" Starsky looked thoughtful, wondering if it could be something he'd never considered.
"Sure. You've already told me how people he's close to can be victimized by somebody out to get him. It makes perfect sense! I understand so much better now!"
"This isn't exactly the way I'd imagined this date going," Starsky admitting, smiling to try to dispell the depressing mood. He glanced at his watch. "It's almost midnight; I'd better get you home."
"How about stopping at your house for coffee first," she volunteered, smiling at her handsome date. "I'd ask you to mine, but I'm out of coffee." He hesitated, causing her to flush with embarrassment. "Unless you don't want to..."
"No, I do," he answered, surprising even himself with his boldness with his partner's sister. "My coffee's not very good, though." It was lame, and he knew it.
"Then I'll make it!" She practically bounced out of the restaurant in front of him, waiting politely while he opened the passenger door of the Torino and helped her in.

It was almost 1:00 now, their having arrived at Starsky's apartment almost 45 minutes ago. Once the coffee was on, they'd sat on the couch awkwardly until Barbara finally made the first move. Standing from her end, she replaced herself next to Starsky, fully realizing what her nearness was doing to him. She placed a gentle hand on his cheek and turned him to look into her expectant eyes.
The will to fight what he was feeling was finally just too much for Starsky, who leaned close, covering her lips with his own. The kiss lingered, longer and deeper than any they'd stolen before, as Starsky pulled her form against his own. Their breaths came heavier, both parties willingly wrapping around each other.
Regaining a semblance of his control, Starsky pulled away for a moment. Was he out of his mind?
"Dave, why don't we forget the coffee and go into your room?"
"I think we'd better go a little slower than that," Starsky told her, staring at her lips.
"Don't you want to? I assure you, Dave. I'm fully able to make my own decisions. And I'm not a little girl anymore."
In answer to her question, he drew her into his arms, kissing her deeply again. One side of his brain was fighting the other's instructions to sweep this beautiful young woman into his arms and carry her off into his bed. Fortunately for his peace of mind, he never had to make that final decision.
Starsky knew right away that the car door he heard slam was in his own driveway, and he pulled away from Barbara, quickly rushing to the window.
"It's Hutch!" He told Barbara, flushing guiltily. "What am I going to do? He'll know!" He plopped back down on the couch next to her.
She smiled warmly at him, not seeming to mind if her brother found out. "I suppose you could always take a cold shower," she suggested, squeezing his thigh suggestively, causing his entire body to react to her touch.
"Water don't come that cold, sweetheart!" She laughed at his comment, but responded when he pushed her to the other end of the couch, just before Hutch came through the door.
By the time Ken Hutchinson arrived in front of the couch, his sister was sitting up straight, smiling innocently, while Starsky sat cross-legged at the other end. It was an unusual position for his partner, but he didn't dwell on it.
"We were just going to have some coffee, Hutch. Would you like some?"
"Yes, Ken. Please have some."
"Thank you, I'd love some."
"It should be ready in a few minutes." Barbara watched him settle into the armchair. "So, what are you doing here?"
Hutch laughed at her inquisition. "Starsky made me promise to let him know how my date with Meredith went, and since I had to pass by here on my way home from dropping her off...I have to admit, I'm surprised to find you here, too."
"Like I said, we're having coffee. The food at that restaurant was great, but their coffee was terrible." Hutch looked from her face to Starsky's, trying very hard to ignore the pink lipstick stain on the white collar of his shirt.
"Its true, partner," the brunet confirmed, nodding to make more of a point. "Actually, I'm glad you stopped in anyway. I wanted to check if we're still on for the department picnic a week from Sunday. I figured all three of us could go. You could even bring Meredith if you wanted."
"I'm in, but I'm afraid Meredith won't be. I've got a feeling she'll be tied up working on this research paper she was talking about. She's trying to get more letters to put after her name!" Hutch smiled, then chuckled. The woman had ambition, there was no doubt about it. Plus, she was excellent at her job.
"Then it'll be just the three of us," Barbara agreed, joining in. "I'll have to go to class the next day, but since my Sundays are usually free, it sounds like a blast. It'll be fun to get to know some of the people who work with you two!" She deviously winked at them both. "Which day did you say it was? I'd better write it in my date book." She reached for her purse on the end table, which Starsky finally retrieved and handed to her. After a moment of reaching inside, she looked up, puzzled. "My calendar was in here, but now it's gone! I hope I didn't lose it-my entire class, lab, and seminar schedule is in there! What am I going to do?!" Starsky noticed her face conveying how distraught she was feeling; apparently she was just as annoyingly organized as her brother.
"Well, first, just take it easy," Hutch suggested, ever the voice of reason. "When did you last use it?"
"At the salon-I made an appointment for a manicure and wrote it in so I wouldn't forget."
"Well, then," Starsky smiled, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder, "I guess that would be the best place to start."
"Gee, d'you think?" Hutch laughed. "Have you ever thought of taking up policework as a career?" They all laughed, even though the joke was old and overused to the two men. Hutch turned back to his sister. "If you'd like, I can call and check tomorrow. I have to go downtown to the health food store anyway, so if it's there, I could pick it up for you. Okay?"
"Okay, big brother! Thank you!" Barbara surprised both men by jumping up at that moment, wrapping her arms around Hutch in a quick hug, then heading for the kitchen for their coffee.
"Wow! I can't believe she was so nice! I knew things were getting a little better between us, but I never dreamed that she'd..." He blushed, then saw right through Starsky's innocent expression. "What did you say to her?"
"Nothing, really! I just talked about some of our exploits on the job. She obviously just has very good taste in men. Even brothers!" Hutch was willing to accept that answer, for that moment, anyway.
After finishing his second cup, Hutch finally seemed to be ready to leave. He stood, turning to Barbara hopefully. "I'd better get going. I could drop you at home along the way if you'd like? Might save Starsky a bit of a drive."
Starsky jumped up to intercept his partner, seeing in his face that Hutch didn't particularly want to leave the two of them alone here. "It's okay, buddy. I'll take her home. It's just about time for me to get some sleep too." Both men knew that Barbara's place wasn't even close to being on the way from Starsky's to Hutch's apartments; the look Starsky gave Hutch communicated that mutual knowledge.
"I'm really sorry Meredith won't have more time to spend with ya, partner," Starsky said, smiling, enjoying needling his partner.
"I didn't say I wouldn't be seeing her. I just said she'd be busy next weekend. And as a matter of fact, Mr. Smartass, I'll be seeing her again tomorrow night. Well, actually tonight," Hutch said, looking at his watch. Starsky's eyebrows rose inquiringly as Barbara searched Hutch's face for more information. "As a matter of fact, it's a function at the university. Some kind of a department get-together."
"Oh, my!" Barbara covered her mouth in surprise. "I'd forgotten all about that mixer. Dave, would you please come as my date? Please?" She repeated, beseechingly.
"Of course, I'd love to! Now I think I'd better get you home," he said, exchanging glances with Hutch. "Shall we?" Starsky motioned toward the door as Barbara nodded and followed, all three leaving the apartment simultaneously. "I'll see you tomorrow!" Starsky yelled to his partner after settling his date in the passenger side of his car.
As he drove back to his Venice apartment, it occurred to Hutch that he hadn't even gotten to tell his partner about his date.

"Excuse me, Miss," Ken Hutchinson said into his telephone the following morning. It was his morning off, and he'd waited until he was sure it'd be open to call the salon. "My sister thinks she left her datebook there yesterday. Did anybody report finding one?"
"If you'll hold on a moment, I'll check." As he listened to the music over the phone, he realized that this was definitely not the woman he'd spoken with when he picked Barbara up yesterday. This one sounded younger and much friendlier. "Is her name Barbara Hutchinson?" she said when she came back on the line.
"Yeah, that's her."
"Well, I have it here, so she can pick it up anytime she wants."
"Good. I'll be in to pick it up in a bit, okay?"
"Sure. If it's before noon, you can just ask for me-I'm Sharon-and I'll stash it until then."
"Okay, I'll see you in awhile. Thanks again." Hutch knew that Barbara would be in a class for the rest of the morning, so he put off calling to tell her the good news. It would be easier to just take it to her anyway. She'd be home until her afternoon class started around 1:00.
He realized he wanted to stop at the grocery store, too, as he stood in front of the open refrigerator, evaluating its meager contents. Definitely time to restock, he decided. He was reaching for a notepad when a voice sounded at the same time as the knock.
"Hey, Hutch! You here?"
"Yeah, c'mon in Starsk!" For a moment after he entered the apartment, Starsky searched for his partner, finally noticing the denim-covered posterior that showed behind the open refrigerator door.
"Hey! You got anything good in there?" Starsky asked as his stomach rumbled.
"Not so's you'd agree," Hutch answered, his voice falling, "or me either for that matter." He shut the refrigerator door, discouraged.
"How about we go out for a late breakfast?" Starsky volunteered, his eyes brightening. He was actually looking forward to the opportunity to talk alone with Hutch about both of their dates the prior evening. Of course, he had no intention of telling him the intimate details of Barbara's interrupted seduction, but they could still cover all the pleasant details.
"Yeah, I guess," Hutch muttered, not sounding very happy at the prospect.
"I'll tell you what, partner," Starsky replied cheerily. "I'm feelin' so good this mornin', I'll even let you pick the place." He diligently wished he wouldn't live to regret that particular promise.
"Great! Thanks! And since you're being so agreeable this morning, you can drive. Just so long as we can stop off on the way to pick up Barbara's datebook."
"They have it at the beauty shop?"
"Yep! Y'know, there's somethin' in there that I've got to show you too. You'll never believe it, Starsk!"
"What is it?" Starsky pleaded as they left the apartment, but Hutch was determined to show him instead of telling him and being deluged with a million questions he had no idea how to answer.

"Starsky, will you come on!" Hutch hurried him along into the salon.
"I'm not particularly thrilled with bein' seen goin' into a ladies barbershop!" Starsky managed to look macho and embarrassed all at the same time.
"We're only going in for a minute! I'm sure that won't tarnish your image." The brunet meandered in behind his partner, who went right up to the reception counter.
"Excuse me, ma'am. Could I see Sharon please?" The young girl behind the counter certainly looked like she belonged here. Her hair was perfectly coifed, and her nails were manicured to perfection.
"Yes, sir," she responded, inciting a cringe from both men.
"I hate it when they say that. Makes me feel like an old man!" Hutch whispered it quietly to Starsky as the girl reached for an intercom button.
"Sharon to the front, please. Sharon to the front." Then she turned back to them. "I think she's just finishing up a shampoo; she should be with you in a few minutes."
"Thank you, Miss," Hutch muttered, watching her go back to her bookwork.
Hutch turned and took a seat, gancing up at his partner. He looked bored, and they both knew it.
"Hutch, why did you want me to come in here?! I don't see anything interesting except you going through a premature midlife crisis!" At Starsky's comment, the blond remembered the item he wanted to show his partner.
"I'm sure you'll think this is interesting. Take a look at this." He led him along the line of wigs, stopping at the very last one.
"So what?" Starsky said, frustrated. "It's just a wig!"
"Take a look at the price, dummy!" Hutch grinned, waiting for his friend to react. He didn't have to wait long.
"Twenty-five hundred dollars! Are they out of their ever-lovin' minds?!" Hutch laughed, inciting the clerk to come over and see what they were up to. "Why the hell is it so expensive?!"
"Starsk, that wig is made of real human hair! Can you believe that?"
"No, I can't," Starsky cringed. "Even if I knew somebody who had the dough to blow on something like that, I don't know why they would. It's gross!"
"Actually," the clerk said, smiling at the men's reactions, "they're the only thing a lot of the upper-crust ladies will buy. They're expensive because they're pretty hard to get."
"Gee, wonder why?" Starsky mumbed near his partner's ear. "This one is so short, I can only imagine how much a long-haired one would be!"
"Long-haired wigs like these are almost impossible to come by, but they're very much in demand. I've heard of a place the other side of town that has them from time to time-and they can be over $10,000. They've had a real run on them lately-we'd give our eye teeth to know where they're getting them. You see, they have to find a woman with very long hair who was getting it cut very short in order to get a workable length of hair. Then what was cut off has to be hand-sewn into a wig."
"Wow," Starsky said, "and these society ladies will actually pay ten grand just because they don't want a man-made one? I guess it takes all kinds," he continued, shaking his head.
Hutch had begun to shake his head as well, disbelieving, when a woman in a smock came up to the counter. "Hi, I'm Sharon. You are Mr. Hutchinson?"
"Yes. We spoke earlier?"
"Oh, yes. I'm not about to forget it! We don't get that many men calling in here, let alone handsome ones stopping in." She winked at Hutch, then at Starsky as well. Both men blushed as the brown-haired woman perused them from head to toe. When she'd finished, she withdrew a rectangular object from her pocket. "Here's your sister's calendar," she said, handing the object to Hutch and being sure her hand brushed his as she placed it in his palm. "You look just like her, you know."
"So I've been told," Hutch smiled. "Well, thank you, Sharon. Take care." As they walked out the door, the clerk watched Sharon's eyes following the two men.
"Boy, the stories that I could write about those two!" Sharon said under her breath.
"Oh, not those stories of yours again!" the clerk laughed.
"Mark my words. Some day one of those romance magazines is going to print one of `those stores', and I'll make a bundle!" She turned, nonplussed, and went back to her station, her mind half into the plotline she was concocting.

"Hi," Barbara signed, stopping off at Meredith's office between classes. The teacher noticed right away that the girl looked unhappy.
"Hi!" She smiled and signed back. When Barbara still didn't smile, she began to worry. "What's the matter?"
"What makes you think there's anything wrong?" Barbara asked, making a point of avoiding the question. Instead of answering right away, Meredith reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a large mirror. It was one she used to help her students who were learning to speak practice. She raised it in front of Barbara so that it reflected her image back at her, not needing to explain further. "Well, it's not exactly that something's wrong. I just have a problem that I can't decide how to solve."
"I can be an objective ear if you need one," Meredith offered, encouragingly.
"I really could use one, but if I tell you, you have to promise not to repeat it to anyone. Especially not my brother or Dave."
"I promise," Meredith said, using her hand to make a crossing sign over her heart.
"I just got a telegram from Gallaudet in Washington, DC. I'd applied for a scholarship there since it's the best, but didn't get it. Well, the person who did get it dropped out, and they've offered to let me take her place. I don't want to leave Ken and Dave, but it's such a big opportunity; how can I pass it up? They even said that if I do as well as my records show, I have a good shot at a permanent position on staff once I graduate. Can you imagine? Being able to teach in one of the most prestigious schools in the country?
"So," Meredith said, trying to make the girl's choices more clear to her, "you have to choose between two men who you want in your life and the chance to have all your professional dreams realized. I have to tell you, I don't envy you your choice."
"That's exactly it. I'm just not sure what I want more."
"Well, I know that you and your brother have been getting much closer and you don't want to lose touch again. But what about Dave? Do you love him?"
"Oh, Meredith," she said, seeming distraught, "I wish I knew. I wish I'd had the chance to find out before this came up. I do know that if I did, and if he loved me too, there wouldn't be a doubt in my mind about staying. If you're asking if I can see he and I together long term, like married or something, well, I can't answer. I've tried to imagine it, but somehow it never comes out right. Maybe I've just dated too many men who are like me to be able to imagine committing to a man who can hear. And that's if he even wants to."
"I'm sure I don't know him as well as you do, but from my experience, I get the feeling that he wouldn't let a little thing like your being deaf get in the way if he really wanted you in his life. You've spent a lot of time with him and Ken, but how much of it has just been the two of you?"
"You mean dates? We've had just one. In that way, I guess, this came at a good time. If I decide to go, neither one of us is in too deep yet. You see? That's what's making choosing so difficult. When I'm here at school, choosing is easy. But when I'm with Dave and Ken, all of a sudden it's not so clear. All I want to do is stay close to them!"
"How long do you have before you've got to give Gallaudet an answer?"
"Two weeks," Barbara cringed.
"Well, that gives you a little time to think about it. I know we've only known each other a short time, and I'm not about to tell you which way to decide, but I will give you a little piece of advice. Trust your instincts; don't second guess them. I've learned from experience that they'll usually steer you in the right direction. So take some of that two weeks, and try to figure out what your instincts are telling you to do." Meredith stood from behind her desk and smiled at the small figure in front of her. Abruptly, Barbara was wrapping her arms around the older woman. This was even a better way to say thank you than sign.

The organizers have done a great job, Meredith thought as she walked into the large conference room on Hutch's arm. All the tables and chairs had been cleared away, allowing for easy mingling among the hundred or so people there. Food and drinks lined one wall, but for the most part, the guests seemed most interested in each other.
Barbara, on Starsky's arm, and Meredith saw people they both recognized, some of whom came over to say hello and be introduced to the women's dates. "This can't last much longer," Hutch whispered out of the side of his mouth to Starsky as they were pushed aside by students and teachers talking to their dates.
"It's already lasted too long," Starsky whispered back. Finally, the crowd seemed to taper off, returning to their smaller groups distributed around the room. Barbara returned to Starsky, leading him off to one of the groups.
It wasn't quite dark yet, but the setting sun was shining brightly through the windows. "Ken," Meredith said, returning to the blond's side and taking his hand, "do I remember you saying you had an interest in plants?"
"Yeah, I do. I even have a greenhouse back at my place." He had a moment's impulse to take her back there tonight, then a moment later realized that it was too soon.
"Well, the University has the most exquisite gardens on this side of the building. Would you like me to show them to you?" She smiled up at him, the blond detecting a sparkle in her eyes.
"Is it such a good idea for you to leave the party so soon?" The last thing he wanted was to get her in trouble, regardless of how attractive the reason was.
"I've made an appearance, and we'll be back later. What more can they ask of a poor, overworked teacher?" She winked at him, drawing him toward the door by the hand, Hutch only too willing to follow to get out of the crowd.
Meanwhile, Starsky and Barbara had been drawn into a political conversation taking place among a small group of deaf students. It was obvious to Starsky that they didn't all agree, but the signs came so fast and so furious that he really had no idea what was going on. He stood politely by Barbara as she made a point, then noticed several of the other students were nodding and signing yes, so he did likewise, doing his best to fit in.
Starsky's attention was drawn by a raucous laugh from the other side of the room. Another small group there, obviously students able to hear and speak, were laughing and talking-he could hear the buzz of conversation-and he found himself wanting to go over there, to see what the discussion was about. He tried to hear from his place, concentrating with all his power, not realizing that he was being remiss in his participation in their current group.
"Dave," Barbara signed, using her left hand to turn Starsky's face toward her. "Dave," she repeated, "John just asked you a question. What's the matter with you?"
"I'm sorry," the brunet said, blushing, "my mind's just been on this case we're investigating. I'm afraid it doesn't leave much room for anything else."
"That's quite all right," John, a medium-height redhead, told him. "Actually, it was your job I was talking about. Barbara says you're a police officer. That must be fascinating work."
"Yeah, it's interesting, but it's also harder than I'd ever have dreamed possible before I joined up."
"Do you feel like it's worth it, Dave?" another man in the group asked.
"If I didn't, I would've quit a long time ago, believe me." Talking like this, finally being able to discuss something he knew, made him feel a little better, but he still felt a strange longing to go over to the other group. Well, maybe not so strange, he thought, but certainly not something he was proud of. He felt he should be able to feel just as comfortable in his current group as in that other one, but he doubted he would.
They spent several more minutes talking with this group before moving on to others around the room. Starsky noticed, but it seemed Barbara didn't, that they always spent more time in the groups who only signed, passing only minutes with the talkative, hearing groups that Starsky enjoyed. However, when they were with those people, he was quick to notice how uncomfortable and out-of-place Barbara looked, so he allowed her to lead them on to the next.
It was almost an hour and a half before Hutch and Meredith returned to the party, drawing up along side Starsky and Barbara. Starsky smiled wickedly at his partner when he realized that Meredith smelled of Hutch's cologne.
"You have a nice `walk', buddy?" he whispered as Meredith joined the current topic of discussion.
"Fine. Just fine," Hutch told him, smiling himself. Starsky was instantly more at ease, having his partner to talk to when there was nobody else. The last thirty minutes of the two-hour function went fairly quickly for the brunet, who didn't mind standing on the sidelines, as long as Hutch was standing there with him.

"Okay, partner. Out with it." Starsky tried to watch his partner and the road at the same time; there was no reaction from the blond, who was obviously lost in thought. "Hutch!"
"Wha?" Starsky's abrupt call brought Hutch's attention back into the car. "Oh, sorry. What did you say?"
"I said, out with it! Where were you?" Starsky wasn't sure whether he should be worried or amused; Hutch rarely got distracted that badly while on duty.
"Would you believe me if I said I didn't know?" The pale complexion was suddenly pink from Hutch's collar to his hairline.
"It depends. What d'you mean by that? This isn't about your and Meredith's `walk' last night, is it?"
"No, it's not that! I feel like there's been something on this case that I've missed. Something I went right by, and it's real irritating. It's like an itch that I can't reach!"
"Well, you know what you gotta do when that happens, buddy." At Hutch's puzzled look, he smiled. "Get a good friend to scratch it!"
"I wish you could, Starsk. I just get this feeling that we're on the wrong track with this one. A psycho killing coeds in broad daylight shouldn't be this hard to catch!"
"It's gotta be a nutcase! No sane person would kill girls like that. None of them were friends, or even knew each other for that matter. They had nothin' in common-not even their ages."
"Suppose..." Hutch blinked for a moment, concentrating. "Suppose the killer really only wanted one of them dead, and the rest were done to cover for it. To give us a lot of false leads. It's possible." Starsky heard the words, but knew by the look in his partner's eyes that he knew it wasn't right. Hutch's instincts amazed Starsky sometimes; this was one of those times.
"You don't believe that, though. Now tell me what your gut is tellin' you." Starsky urged him on, knowing that Hutch sometimes fought his God-given gift.
"What it's really telling me?" He drew in a deep breath, purposefully looking away from Starsky. "Okay. I feel that we're not even close. That we're so far on the wrong track that we're practically derailed."
"Okay. Then let's go back to the office and go over the files again. It's gotta be there, we just have to get ourselves to see it." Starsky could see that this case was eating at his partner. The light blue eyes were shadowed with the vision of his sister's horror and tragic loss at the death of her best friend.

"DO NOT DISTURB". The crooked, left-handed scrawl was emblazoned across a sheet of standard notebook paper and taped over the small window of Interrogation Room 6, effectively barring entrance from anybody who wasn't approved. The tiny initials "DS" in the bottom corner was enough warning to the rest of the precinct that an intrusion would not be tolerated by the energetic author of the sign or his equally explosive, at times, partner.
Inside, the large table in the center of the room was covered with paper. In the center, lined in perfect order that only Hutch would have taken the time to do, were photos taken by the coroner of the victims. Above each one, Hutch was laying a picture of the same woman provided by family or friends from when she was still alive.
"Starsk," the blond said when he'd finished, drawing his partner's attention from the folder he had opened on the edge of the table.
"What?"
"Take a look at these, wouldya?" Starsky shut the folder with more force than necessary and stood to join his partner.
"Might as well. This file's not tellin' me anything it didn't the last four times I read it." He looked over the long line of pictures. "So?"
"Okay, let's try this," Hutch began. "Look at all these pictures, try and forget everything you already know about the case, and tell me what these girls could have in common."
"Well..." Starsky studied them carefully, but nothing unusual came to mind. "They're all pretty foxy, but that's about it. All different color eyes and hair, different nationalities; they're not even all around the same age."
"Are you sure, Starsk? Look closer."
"Well, all but this one," he pointed out an attractive brunette with a pixie haircut, "could be in their early twenties. But this one can't be more than seventeen or eighteen."
Hutch picked up that particular picture, turning it over to read the back. "That's because it's an old photo. Date's 1972-guess nobody thought to get anything more recent. It's probably her high school graduation picture, for Pete's sake."
"So they don't have anything in common that we can track. So we've gotta find something that's not so easy to trace. Anything come to mind?"
Starsky watched, fascinated, as his partner walked the circumference of the room once, then again, and then a third time, all the while rubbing a hand on his face, deep in thought. "Starsk!" he finally said, raising his eyes to look into Starsky's even bluer ones. "Remember when we found that last victim? The killer had to run off because somebody called it in before he could finish the job?"
"Yeah," Starsky answered, smiling slightly, "and she smelled like ammonia."
"Correction, partner. She smelled like permanent solution! Did anybody think to check if all these girls went to the same hairstylist?"
"Hutch, this case is gettin' to ya. Don't you remember? That was one of the first things they tried, what with the shaved heads and all. About half went to the same place, with the rest spread out over a bunch of different places."
"Are you sure?" Hutch questioned tiredly.
"Sure! Here's the file with all the names." He handed over a ragged-edged manilla folder which Hutch opened and studied. He looked back at the photo of the last victim.
"Wait a minute, Starsk!" the blue eyes brightened markedly. "The last victim smelled like permanent solution, right?" Starsky nodded and the blond continued to explain. "Did anybody check with her hairstylist to see if she'd been in there that day? That might tell us whether the smell was actually on her or whether it was on the killer."
"Sounds like that's our next stop, buddy," Starsky said, throwing an arm around Hutch's shoulders. "Let's clean up this mess and go over there. After that, I think it's time for some sleep for both of us."
"I can't argue with that," Hutch muttered, rubbing his eyes. He piled everything into a folder except the photograph of the last victim, which he slipped into his pocket. Then he thought again, bringing the entire file along anyway. So what if you weren't supposed to do that.

The gaudily dressed man who greeted them at the Salon Royale was more than what the duo would have considered as odd. It actually reminded them of the undercover stint they'd done as beauticians around the time Huggy had opened his own detective business. But this guy was so far past even the ridiculousness they'd put on that it was difficult to keep from laughing.
"Excuse me," Hutch said, interrupting the extended gushing the stylist was doing over the current weather. "Do you think you could tell me if Heather Harrison had an appointment here on the sixteenth of last month?" He flashed his badge as Starsky did the same, watching the peculiar man carefully.
"Well, sure, darling! Whyever didn't you say something sooner?" He accentuated his gestures as he pulled out an appointment book and laid it open on the desktop. Hutch turned to his partner, who slowly mouthed the word "darling" to his partner, smiling wickedly at Hutch's uncomfortable expression.
"Don't look at me like that!" the blond whispered to Starsky. "You'll make us both lose it!" At this prompting, Starsky decided to leave the questioning to Hutch, busying himself with reading the different signs around the reception desk.
"Yes, here it is," the clerk finally said, finding the correct page. "But I don't see any appointment for her on that day." He flipped the page again, saying, "and none the day before either."
"But she is a regular client here, right? I'm talking about this girl here." Hutch showed him the photograph of the girl, at which the stylist blanched.
"Yes, that's her. Only that was before she starting coming to us. We never would have given a girl her age such a horrible haircut. Long hair was much more flattering to her, so we kept it as long and wavy as we could. She had such beautiful hair-she didn't even need a body wave!" He seemed to notice Starsky again, silently examining the signs. "Oh, Sargent, dear! You must tell us who has been doing your perm! It's simply dreadful-all wrong for you! We would do a much better job of it here at the Royale!"
"Mr..." Starsky's eyes shot lightning bolts at the man.
"You can just call me Lee."
"Well, Lee, I'll have you know that I don't have a perm, and I like my hair just fine the way it is." He voice was quiet, but cold, and the man almost quiverred at the chill of Starsky's anger.
"So you're saying," Hutch asked, bringing the beautician's attention back to the case, "that she hadn't been in here, and that she wore her hair long now?"
"Why, yes. Of course that's what I'm saying, you silly boy!"
"Well, thank you, sir. We'd better be going." Hutch started to turn toward the door when Starsky called to him.
"Hey, Hutch! Look at this." The brunet pointed out a large sign on a wall of the salon, behind a shelf of shampoo bottles.
WE SPECIALIZE IN ALL-NATURAL HUMAN-HAIR WIGS ALL LENGTHS AVAILABLE ASK FOR DETAILS "I thought that these were rare. How is it you can have a full inventory of them?" Starsky addressed Lee gruffly, the man taking on a scared expression.
"Well, actually, Officer, they are. The owner must have come up with a fantastic supplier, though, because we've been selling quite a few of them. He must be making a fortune from the sales, what with the high cost of them, especially the longer ones."
Starsky's and Hutch's eyes met, silently communicating, as Hutch motioned that they should leave. Starsky didn't understand why they were going, but said their goodbyes and left behind the blond.
By the time he arrived around, Hutch was leaning against the brick wall of the adjoining building, his eyes closed and his face pain-filled.
"What's the matter, buddy?" Starsky asked, concerned.
"Has this world really gotten so sick, so greedy, that..."
"That what? C'mon, let me in on it."
"Could somebody-this shopowner or the guy who sells `em to him-be killing these girls just to get their hair?" He swallowed hard and finally looked his partner in the eyes. "Could they be that sick?"
"I'm afraid we both know the answer to that one," Starsky answered, laying a gentle hand on the blond's arm and leading him back to the car. "We've got a lot of work to do, though, if we're gonna make this case stick." They climbed into the red car, Starsky still noticing how lost in thought his partner seemed.
"Hey, Hutch," he said suddenly, hoping to draw Hutch out of his silence. "When we get back to metro, why don't you track down the address of that salon owner, and I'll work on the victims. If he did kill those girls, he had to have seen the ones who ain't clients somewhere. If we can figure out where, that'll be a big help in gettin' the judge to issue us a warrant."
"Right, Starsk. I really want this guy!" The hate blazed in the blue eyes as Starsky saw his pain there as well.

Hutch was practically asleep on the phone as he waited for I&A to look up his request for information on the salon and its owner. He really didn't mind, though. His eyes had been trying to fall shut ever since they got back to the precinct; this was the first opportunity he'd had to accommodate their enticement of rest. Even Starsky's voice as he talked into the phone at his own desk wasn't enough to keep him from slipping off.
"Hutchinson!" the phone screamed at him, pulling him back into the world of consciousness.
"Uhhhhh...oh, yeah... What'ya got, Hank?"
"The info you wanted, what else? The Salon Royale is owned by one Frederick Easton. The salon is making a huge profit, based on its business statement, as one of the most elite places in town. Mostly patronized by the very well off and showbiz types, although not exclusive to that." He continued to listen, taking notes, as he watched Starsky doing the same.
Starsky hung up his own phone a fraction of a second before Hutch. "Well, that's one in our favor. All the girls who didn't have their hair done there walked past it on their way to work, classes, or regular shopping. Some were at kind of odd hours, though. That could be a problem."
"No, it isn't. R&I just found out that the owner, Frederick Easton, lives in an apartment above the salon. He could've looked out his window and seen them at any time of the day or night. Think it's enough to get us a warrant?" Hutch looked doubtful, knowing they were reaching.
"Maybe not an arrest warrant, but I'll bet we could get a search warrant to check out those wigs. It could be enough."
"We just have to make sure it is enough," Hutch muttered, standing and following Starsky to Captain Dobey's office. They outlined everything on the case and what they'd found out, and with Dobey standing behind them on the matter, soon had a search warrant in hand for both the salon and the apartment above it.
Before leaving for the salon, taking along a patrol car as backup, Starsky placed a call to the coroner's office. "Hey, Ginny. What's the chance of my gettin' a hair sample from Heather Harrison. She should still be down there in a drawer."
"Hi, Dave," Ginny said warmly. She always welcomed a call from her favorite detective, even if it was only business. "The sample's no problem, but what do you need it for?"
"We're gonna search the place of the guy we believe did it. I thought it would be good evidence if we found hair that matched."
"That's a good idea, Dave, but it'll only work if you have somebody with you who has the expertise to be able to match them. Give me five minutes to get ready and I'll come along."
"No, wait!" Starsky shouted, trying to catch her before she hung up the phone. "It's too dangerous-and you're not a cop. You could get hurt!"
"Don't worry, Dave. I'll stay in the car until I'm called, I promise."
"Okay," Starky said grudgingly. "Meet Hutch and me in the parking lot at my car. Five minutes!"
True to her word, and excited at a chance to get out and see a little excitement, Ginny was right on time. Sandwiched in the front seat between the blond and the brunet, she felt a spine-chilling thrill as the Torino raced through the streets with the siren blaring. So this was police work-at least the way the infamous Starsky and Hutch did it.
The Salon Royale was closed, and all the doors were locked, including the one they suspected of running to the upstairs apartment. There were lights on showing through the drawn shades, but there was no answer to the pounding the officers inflicted on each of the doors.
"Well," Starsky volunteered, speaking to the nearest uniform. "I guess we let ourselves in. Go get a crowbar, Jerry. We might as well start on the beauty parlor."
Hutch took the bar from Jerry when he returned, sliding it into place and putting his weight into forcing the door open. Minutes later they were combing the place with a fine toothed comb.
"Nothing! Dammit!" Hutch shouted savagely, bringing his partner to his side.
"There's still upstairs, partner," he whispered, trying to calm the blond. "Let's go get `im." Starsky pulled him by the arm until Hutch came willingly.
"Hear that?" Starsky asked, freezing on the stairs.
"No. What is it?" Hutch looked puzzled. He turned abruptly to silence the backup coming up behind him, still trying to hear what Starsky heard. "Shhhhhh!" They quieted and he listened again, this time picking up the faintest trace of a voice. "Could it be the television?"
"I doubt it. Sounds too real." His sneakers helped him climb the stairs without a sound. As they grew closer to the door, the voice grew louder, finally becoming discernable.
"Yes, Mrs. Witherspoon. Your wig will be ready first thing in the morning. You'll bring the payment, I presume? In cash, as I said...? Good, I'll see you then." He hadn't gotten the phone into the cradle when the resounding voice sounded.
"Police, Mr. Easton. Open up! We have a warrant to search the premises." Starsky smiled to himself-Hutch was always so good at those kinds of things.
They could hear scrambling inside the apartment, so, fearful that the culprit could be destroying valuable evidence, Hutch nodded to Starsky, who, with two well-placed kicks, forced the door open. "Freeze!" both detectives called, storming into the room.
The man who froze en route to the fire escape was not what they expected at all. Quite probably in his late 30's, he looked as squeaky-clean as a member of the Mickey Mouse Club. But his face radiated fear, like a trapped animal. Trapped animals are the most deadly, Hutch thought to himself, stepping forward to cuff the man.
From out of nowhere, Easton produced a pair of razor-sharp scissors, proceeding to take swipe after wipe at the approaching blond. Seeing Hutch's situation, Starsky began circling in the other direction, his eyes communicating silently with his partner's as he moved in the opposite direction on the arc. The stylist was deadly, but inexperienced and not terribly bright, because he failed to notice Starsky's movements until he grabbed the hand holding the scissors, confiscated them, and snapped on the cuffs. "Get Ginny up here," Hutch called to one of the officers after opening a closet to reveal several wigs on Styrofoam heads. "Let's hope she can get us a match."
By the time she made it up to the apartment, Easton had been removed and they had moved all the wigs to the dining room table where she began her examination. "This one kind of looks like what he left on the body," Starsky volunteered, pushing one toward her.
"Dave, you're amazing!" Ginny said after studying the wig closely. "This is a definite match."
"Johnson," he said to one of the uniformed officers, "get a crime lab team over here to collect the evidence and get these," he motioned to the wigs, "sealed as evidence." When he turned to his partner, he noticed Hutch's pallor was slightly green. "What'sa matter, buddy?"
"All those girls...so much ahead of them...killed for this..." He definitely looked like he was going to be sick now, so Starsky quickly dragged him from the room, into the cool air of the evening.
"Okay, take some deep breaths...again... Again..." Hutch gulped the air greedily, his color seeming to improve with each breath. "Better?"
Hutch nodded, smiling faintly. "Let's go write it up so we can go home. This's been a helluva long case."

"And so, the victims he chose from his shop, he seemed drawn to double-initials. But when the pickings got scarce and he started killing other women he saw in the area, he had to choose what was available." Starsky finished telling Barbara about the case, both of them waiting for Hutch to finish getting ready to go to the picnic.
Wow! and to think that you guys got the killer because I can't keep track of my calendar! She laughed silently, but Starsky thought he saw a sadness behind her blue eyes. Well, anybody is entitled to a little depression once in a while.
"Well, it did have something to do with two very adept police detectives who were on the case too, you know," Hutch said as he finally emerged from the bathroom, showered, shaved, and dressed in a pair of white shorts Barbara had never seen before.
Are you sure you want to wear those, Ken? Barbara asked him. It could get cold later. Besides, aren't they a little...short?
"Who are you, my mother?" Hutch laughed as he pulled the knit top he wore down as far as it would reach over the shorts.
The Torino took them all to the park where the policemen's picnic was already in full swing. Barbara's presence brought bear-hugs from Captain Dobey and some of the officers she'd met at the station all those months ago. She sat with Minnie and Ginny as the guys played in an amateur softball game.
There was no scoreboard, but Dobey, armed with a megaphone, announced the score after each batter. When her brother hit a home run in the fifth inning, Barbara believed the runner he'd driven home had tied the game, but it was uncertain. All the spectators stood and cheered, but she couldn't tell what they were shouting. It made her feel uncomfortable and alienated, although she did everything in her power to cover it up.
The festivities went on into the evening, and at dusk a huge bonfire was built. Officers and their wives or girlfriends cuddled around it, enjoying a rare day of total and carefree rest. The fire-light bathed everybody in a soft warm glow. From her seat between Cal and Rosie Dobey, she could barely make out the wagon that had taken the children on hayrides earlier in the day. Suddenly, perched on the bales of hay inside, the firelight illuminated the shadowed forms of Starsky and Hutch, both holding the guitars she hadn't known they'd brought with them.
They began to strum the instruments, singing together softly, facing each other. The picnic goers swayed in time to the music that Barbara couldn't hear, wishing for a moment that either man would turn toward the impromptu audience so she could see what they were singing. As the singing ended and everybody drifted off toward their cars, she thought that she hadn't felt this alone since her early days at the boarding school. She watched as the fire was extinguished, waiting for Starsky and Hutch to join her. She didn't blame them-it wasn't their fault. It was a difference between her world and theirs. Bridget had warned her about it when she first announced she was coming to Los Angeles, and she'd sworn up one side and down the other that she'd be able to handle it. But more and more, it was becoming clear to her that she couldn't handle it-or rather, didn't want to.
Starsky and Hutch wrapped arms around her shoulders as the three of them walked to the Torino, the first stop scheduled to be dropping Barbara off at her place.
Would you guys come up, please? she asked as Starsky pulled the car up next to the curb. I need to talk to you both.
Starsky nodded as he shut off the car. Both men wondered what was going on, but since their work had taught them patience; they were willing to wait.
This isn't easy for me, Barbara said after they closed the door to her apartment. I want both of you to know that. I've had a decision to make for some time now, and I didn't tell you about it because I wanted it to be mine and mine alone. I've been offered a scholarship to Gallaudet in Washington, DC, and I think I'm going to accept it.
Hutch stood in stunned silence, a disbelieving look on his face. Starsky was a little more objective, but no less confused. "But I thought you liked it here. You were doing so well, and we..."
I know, Dave. I like it here very much. But I like it to visit, not to live. I don't feel I belong here, and Gallaudet is the best college for the deaf in the country. I could even get a job teaching there after I get my degree! I'll be with other people who are like me. She stood close to Starsky, looking deeply into the blue eyes she was so mezmerized by. We have fun, Dave, but I don't think we live in the same world, and I don't think we ever could. I'm sorry.
Barbara turned to her brother, immediately seeing the pain in his face. I know how much you've gone through to make this feel like home to me. I wouldn't change one second of it. I've got what I thought I'd never have-I found my brother. And he's a wonderful man! She had to stand on her toes to wrap her arms around his neck, hugging him hard as she felt him tremble under her. He held on tight, returning the hug, lifting the small woman off her feet.
"I can't even keep my own sister from leaving me," he said to Starsky through glistening eyes. "It's no wonder my record with women is so bad." He chuckled slightly, knowing that it was half true, as Starsky wrapped both Hutchinsons in his arms. When the tears were finally spent, they all released each other. "I want you to know that I understand why you're going, even if I'm not happy about it. Now that I've found you, you better be ready to get a lot of letters from me. I'm not going to lose you again, even if you are a continent away." Barbara watched his hands, realizing how much improved their sign was as a result of being exposed to her for a few months. It was still far from perfect, but it was wonderful all the same.
An idea sprang into Barbara's mind as she said goodnight to her brother and his partner, thinking of the perfect going away present for these two very special men in her life.

Starsky, Hutch, and Meredith stood waving to Barbara as she boarded the plane bound for the East coast. They'd said their goodbyes earlier, determined not to make a scene at the airport. Meredith saw how forlorn Hutch looked after she was gone.
"Would you two walk me to my car?" she asked.
"Sure," Starsky agreed, Hutch nodding his consent as well.
As they approached a green Pontiac in the parking lot, they were surprised when she went to the trunk instead of the driver's door. Meredith opened the trunk as they arrived by her side. There were two identical gift-wrapped boxes in her trunk.
"Barbara made me promise to give you these before you left, and to help you in learning to use them. I'm afraid it didn't take too much convincing for that part." She smiled sheepishly at the two handsome men beside her as she handed each a package.
"I remember this thing," Hutch said, examining the item once he'd removed the wrappings. "Barbara called it a TDD."
"Your memory is very good, Ken," Meredith commended. "It'll let you-both of you-talk to her without having to use the transfer service. It allows for much more personal conversations and a much higher level of privacy. You see, with these you can type directly to Barbara's TDD-without the transfer service operator hearing everything you say."
Starsky looked puzzled. "But I thought she said the operators were obligated to keep everything they heard confidential."
"They are, but it seems there's always a semblance of doubt for anybody using the service. She wanted to be absolutely sure she didn't lose touch with either of you." She smiled up at Starsky and Hutch. "Hey, this doesn't mean I'm not going to see you guys anymore, does it?"
"Are you kidding?" Hutch laughed, feeling much better because of Barbara's thoughtful gift. He knew it meant she had no intention of losing their relationship again, just because they weren't nearby geographically. "We've still got that class next semester."
"Okay, well, I guess I'll see you in ten weeks then." She looked slightly depressed.
"I think," Starsky told her as she started the engine and began to pull away, "that you'll hear from at least one of us well before then." Her smile shown brightly as she turned the car out of the parking lot, imagining which of the men Starsky had been talking about when he'd made his last statement. She looked out the rear view mirror and saw Starsky and Hutch walking toward the LTD Hutch drove, a comfortable arm around each other's shoulders. No matter what, she though, at least they'll have each other. It seemed so right that she never even questioned it anymore.
The End